


We'll Always Be Together In The End

by MissyAnn



Series: Becoming Whole [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blocked/Repressed Memories, Canon Divergence AU, Child Abuse, Denial, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Other, PTSD, Possessive Behavior, Pre RVSB S1- Post S13, Presents as Split Personality/DID, Protector/Aggressive Alter, Rating Will Change to Explicit, Re-orientation Camp, Results of Mad Science, Secrets, Series Spoilers, Sexual Content, Some older chpts. to be edited for grammar & paragraph spacing that disappeared, chapters tagged individually, conversion therapy, indoctrination, not on hiatus, possible supernatural elements/abilities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 233,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyAnn/pseuds/MissyAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~NOTE~: 7/7/18 Update/next chapter is being worked on & is upcoming! <3</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>~NOTE~: Some Chpts <strong>Semi-E to E</strong> (Ch.'s 14, 17, 18, 23, 24, and 25 so far- Chpts w/Sexual Content become more Explicit as Story Progresses.) Though Story Itself Still Has M Rating, rn</p>
</div><br/>Shockingly, Simmons was <em>just</em> intoxicated enough to whisper to Grif, “I…I have a secret…”<br/>“Oh, yeah? You gonna tell me what it is?,” Grif asked, trying to sound chill. He was <em>sure</em> this son of a bitch was talking about being in the closet.<br/>“There’s this… side of me… that I have to… <span class="small">hide</span>… ,” Simmons spoke so, so quietly, like he was trying to not be overheard… “It’s really s-scary… sometimes…” His voice cracked.<br/>“Hey, man, it’s cool, I get it.” Grif almost sounded calm. Laid-back... Almost. “You don’t… uh…” Fuck. He actually <em>was</em> trying. “You don’t gotta hide it… from me. I mean, I don’t care. I don’t judge. I mean, I DO, but not for <strong>that</strong>…"
            </blockquote>





	1. Do You Think... I’m crazy?

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! Ridiculously Long First Chapter Note Ahead! You can skip, unless, you want to understand some background, and where this idea, and story, came from. :-)
> 
> There is a world that still exists. A world of hatred. Of indoctrination. Of hiding who you truly are in order to survive. Having lived, and breathed, and bled in it, there are those of us that know this to be true. Some escape. Some do not. And some, do not escape without severe damage. Scars on their bodies. Fragmentation of self. Of mind.
> 
> In this story, I wanted to play into two concepts that I am not sure I have seen. First, the dual-nature that Simmons shows time and time again. Especially, toward Grif. This is _exactly_ what a Protector Alter irl does to those the host is closest to, and cares the most about. The reasoning being that most people with true split personalities suffered the break as children due to someone very close to them abusing them until their mind sectioned off for survival and continued sanity. This causes the Protector Alter to lash out into adulthood at those who get close to the host. And, the second idea is that Simmons has always been a “pretty boy”. In other words, very attractive in an effeminate fashion. And this is a curse, pure hell, in a strict cult-like, men must be manly and tough, and women must be feminine and subservient, religious household*. Looking like that in that environment can be very bad. I, also, thought of this idea, as it could be an explanation for his kind of glaringly obvious insecurity regarding his masculinity. There could be other reasons behind this, but I believe they've been covered very well by others.
> 
> There are many fun, silly parts of this very long story, (I have almost four notebooks full of completely written out chapters. I just need to bridge some timeline gaps.), but there will be some hard, dark material. I promise to always give trigger warnings in the notes, so please, if you are going to read this, check the notes, so you can skip a chapter, if needed. Also, I have _way_ too many tags, but some are important so please check for those in the notes, as well. I hope you join me for this. Love to you all!  
>   
>  *I want to be clear that absolutely no offense is meant to true people of faith and love, _at all_.
> 
> Last Notes, I Promise!  
>   
> Richard’s (Simmons’ "Alter") and Simmons' internal dialogue is enclosed within [brackets].  
> And Lopez is with the Red's, -sometimes, anyway-, in the beginning, a bit longer than it seems in canon to establish some relationships. But, this is a AU, anyway, so it's alright. It'll be close, though.

Timeline: Blood Gulch-Approx. 1 week Before the Tank Incident

  
Richard “Dick” Simmons was _not_ crazy. He was _almost_ sure of it. It wasn’t like he heard **voices.**

It was just… one voice. And it was more like his own, then anything else, he often tried to reassure himself.

So, maybe, this “voice”, or, whatever the hell it was, had different ideas, or opinions, then he did about stuff, sometimes. But, it wasn’t like it had ever... erm... periodically, taken him over when he was under too much pressure, or anything...  
  
Right?  
  
**_Right?!_ **  
  
["This flip-flopping bullshit is getting worse every damn day,” Richard mused, “It’s _kinda_ gettin' fuckin’ hilarious.”]  
  
Simmons pretended he didn’t hear him. Instead, he chuckled nervously to himself, as he thought, and obsessed, and worried. He _did_ find himself speaking his thoughts aloud an awful lot, but the voice he, sometimes, heard talking back (He was back to refusing to name him…er… _it_ , again.) was in his head, normally. Oh shit! He was stuck on that one. Wasn’t the saying that you were only crazy if you talk to the voice in your head, and it answers you back?!  
  
["Ri-ch-ard. It should _not_ be so hard to remember, Simmons, seriously. I mean, ya know, _considering_..."  
“Shut up!," Simmons growled, "You’re so fucking _sarcastic_ today!... Uh… I, mean… Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”]  
  
He thought that it had just been (Even in his mind, and thoughts, he lowered his tone to a whisper.) a _comfort_ , at first, but as the years had passed, it had gotten gradually more separate, and more _angry_. And Simmons wasn’t even always sure _why_.  
  
Then... there were the headaches…  
  
["And Simmons, don’t forget! Those are an actual documented fact. People, like us, inevitably suffer from, at times, debilitating"-  
“I’m not listening, Richard! You’re. NOT. REAL!”]  
  
…It honestly felt like they were located right in the place Richard…  
  
["Better!," the Alter praised.]  
  
… Um… the _voice_ lived, or came out of.  
  
["Oh, I frickin’ give up!," Richard was so _done_ with this damn brat, "Talk to me when you get your shit together!"]  
  
Simmons went back to worrying... Christ! Maybe he had a undiagnosed brain tumor! Probably originating from the cerebellum, which was also known to be the part of the brain that controlled sensory perception, coordination, and motor control…  
  
["Sensory…?," Richard just sounded  confused, " _That_ doesn’t seem to be a very logical way of looking at it, overall... Dammit! I forgot. _I’m_ not talking to _you_.... **Asshole**."]  
  
…It would explain so much! But, that would be the worst! He wouldn’t be able to perform his duties, and there was LITERALLY _no one_ legitimately qualified to cover for Simmons while he got treatment, or surgery, or whatever. And what would Sarge say? He’d be **so** disappointed in him! Oh, fuuuck, he was going to be _sick_. He was going to, actually, be sick, as in **puke** , in his helmet.  
  
He groaned aloud.  
  
And, Grif finally spoke up from his place in the shade where he had been pretending to be sound asleep, but had actually only been half-dozing while he kept an eye on his fruitcake teammate, who'd been pacing rapidly back and forth while murmuring to himself.  
  
When Simmons got like this, and it didn’t happen _that_ often (It seemed to get especially bad when he’d had too much time to himself.), but when it did, he even seemed to welcome Grif’s laziness and lethargy. As if he thought he could completely hide his mental breakdown, or whatever the fuck, as long as Grif was snoozing.  
  
Shit.  
  
It'd be entertaining if it wasn’t so damn... _strange_.  
  
“Yo, dude,” Grif called to him in a bored tone. He was only a few yards away, but there were two very important things Grif knew about dealing with this massive neurotic nerd.  
  
_Especially,_ when he got all “weird”.  
  
1.Try not to yell, or talk too loud. As it would, likely, startle or freak Simmons the fuck out, and then the dude was more than likely to spaz out, jump a foot in the air, and try to shoot you on reflex (Thank _Christ_ for power armor.) And…  
  
2\. …What was 2, again? Grif hummed under his breath sleepily and thoughtfully.  
  
He stifled a yawn.  
  
Hmmm…ah, fuck it.  
  
Shrugging to himself, he attempted to wake up a bit more, and try again.  
  
“Hey, Kissass? Come over here.” He put just the tiniest hint of command into his voice. It didn’t take much for Simmons, _at all_. Particularly, when he was like this.  
  
And, sure enough, Private Asskisser Extraordinaire started toward him.  
  
Grif looked up at him from his semi-comfortable lounging position as Simmons stopped directly in front of him.  
  
Still looking fidgety, and shaken. Clutching his gun a little too tightly.  
  
The orange soldier's eyes slipped half-shut as he silently thought, and he acknowledged to himself that the fact that this act alone hadn’t caused Simmons to blow up at him, when he _hated_ being called away from duties for no discernible reason, was proof that the kissass really wasn’t doing so hot. I mean, yeah, yeah, Grif had already, pretty much _known that_ due to the whole…whatever the hell thing he kept witnessing now and again.  
  
And, how in the fuck did the others not notice, anyway? Maybe they just didn’t give a shit. Not saying that _he_ did, but…

Grif didn’t know why he even bothered, or “cared”, particularly when he took into account the fucked-up way Simmons acted toward him some of the time. So fucking quick to turn on him… He could be a real two-faced son of a bitch. But, still, here Grif was. He guessed that, if he bothered to try to puzzle it out -And what the hell, _else_ was Grif supposed to do during his rare lucid hours, but contemplate pretty boy repressed neurotics? Fuck if he knew- it was like one of those stupid ass things where you thought you recognized something of yourself in someone who was so opposite to you, or some such dumb shit.  
  
Whatever.  
  
He didn’t give a shit about why he gave a shit…  
  
Shit!

He did know that it cut into his naptime, sometimes, and _that_ made him cranky as hell. But _someone_ had to keep an eye on the nerd. I mean, goddammit! Things had gotten so outta hand that Grif had had to talk to _Sarge_.  
  
Sarge, for fuck’s sake!  
  
It had gone about as well as could be expected…  
  


**❋ Grif Reluctantly Approaches Sarge With An... An Issue ❋**

"Hey, Sarge?,” Grif had wandered up to the man while he and Lopez were putting the finishing touches on…something…outside the Base that the CO insisted was a “state of the art murder ray that could wipe out those pesky Blues…and reheat a nice cuppa Sarsaparilla”! It just looked like a pile of scrap metal to Grif, but he’d thought that before to his deep regret.

“Ah, Pvt. Grif,” Sarge boomed out, “I’m glad ta’ see ya, boy! ”

“You…you are?,” Grif couldn’t quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“‘A course,” he intoned assuredly, “Your fat, worthless carcass will be the perfect test dummy for my new cosmic death ray…Get it? Cause you’re a worthless dummy!”

The orange armored soldier sighed, “Why do I even bother?”

Lopez cut in, in his broken, robotic Spanish that no one understood. {"Si. Why do you bother? We are busy doing that which you do not understand…Work. Go flirt with the maroon one, instead of bothering us."}

“Suuure, Lopez. That _is_ my favorite thing. I’ll get riiight on that.”

{"Dios Mio! Did you _actually_ understand me?... No. It must be like the monkeys with typewriters experiment. With enough time, something of intelligence will come out, though not through actual intelligent means."}

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a frickin’ riot…,” Grif shifted uncomfortably, and finally asked the question that had brought him, against his better judgment, out here in the first place, with his insane CO, and his pet robot, “…um…Sarge?”

“Spit it out, dirtbag! I know how you _ladies_ like chewin’ the fat, but you’re talkin’ ta' two _men_ here!”

“Uhhh…,” Grif looked from the short, stocky Red leader to his tall, robotic son/creation, and back again, biting back a sarcastic retort.

“Sarge, I was wondering…if you’d noticed anything…uh, _weird_ …with Simmons?”

“ _’Weird’_ , you say…Weird, how?,” Sarge questioned thoughtfully, and, then, he almost _howled_ out, excitedly, “ _Holy Jehoshaphat_! Was he secretly kidnapped, an’ brainwashed by those no good dastardly Blues! I _knew_ this would happen ta’ one of my boys sooner or later. Oh, I’m fit ta’ be tied!” He hummed eagerly.

“Look, Sarge,” Grif tried again, “I could be _napping_ , right now, and I know it’s hard to believe, but I am really trying to be serious here. You should be able to tell that by the fact that I’m, ya know, actually _awake_ at this time of the morning.”

{"Humans should not bother to attempt things beyond their skill level. And, it is noon."}

“Can it, Lopez. And as for you, Pvt. Grif!,” Sarge barked out at him, “I _always_ knew you were an idiot, but I _never_ woulda ‘spected you ta’ be stupid, ta’ boot!”

“...Huh?”

“Blue Brainwashing **is** _serious_ , dirtbag!,” His voice lowered to emphasize his point, “Deadly. Serious.”

“Well, _yeah_ , but that’s not what I’m talking about here…”

“Didn’t they teach you, gals, nothin’ in Basic, other than how ta’ braid each other’s pigtails?!”

“You know what? Fuck it.” Grif gave up in disgust, and turned around to walk away,…fuck ‘em, he’d figure this bullshit out himself like he did everything else…but the familiar *Chung-Chung* of Sarge cocking his shotgun froze him in place.

{"Padre, do not waste your bullets. I will retrieve the worthless son for you."}

“How’s about you just keep an’ eye on ‘em, Pvt. Grif?”

The private turned slowly back around. “Is that an order, _Sir_?” He tacked on the last word, sardonically as hell.

The older man chuckled, as he lined up his most useless soldier in his sights, “Nah. I reckon if it was, ya wouldn’t do it.”

“Hmph,” Grif snorted, “You really know me too well.”

“Do need someone ta’ be able ta’ tell me where my second in command, after Lopez a’ course, is at all times, though. In case those Blue scoundrels try ta’ compromise ‘em.”

“Sure, that makes sense,” Grif tried to hide his deep sense of relief, even from himself, behind a careless shrug.

Maybe if he could keep the nerd distracted with bullshit, he could be kept from spacing out, and doing something dumb as fuck. Like wandering into Blue base, doing all their laundry, and color-coding their underwear drawers, before they shot him in the ass. Hell, Grif could just do _nothing_ , and if Simmons was near enough that it caught his attention, he’d be too busy bitchin’ and moanin' about what a lazy asshole Grif was to get…all up in his head. Sounded like a great way to chill, and…look out for…ya know... damn kissass, an’ stuff… What could Grif say? He guessed that all the years of taking care of Kai had made him sensitive to flighty behavior. Who knew? Whatever.

“Now, skedaddle!,” Sarge commanded, “Those traitorous Blues could already have him in their filthy Blue clutches!”

“I’m going, geez, I’m _going_ , already.”

*Chung-Chung* “What was that, soldier?”

“I _said_ , I’m going already, _Sir_.” Grif’s voice practically dripped sarcasm.

“That’s what I _thought_ you said.”

Sarge lowered his shotgun, as Grif ambled off in search of Simmons.

And, Lopez caught the smile in his Padre-Creator’s voice, as he sent Grif off with a parting, “Dirtbag”.

{"I thought you hated the worthless orange one, and just used the broken maroon one for his superior intellect, and ideas. Why does this not always seem to be true? This does not follow with my programming."}  
  
Lopez sounded as surprised, and confused, as a robot with a developing AI _could_ sound. So, in Sarge’s words…half to middlin’.

“Yeah, Lopez. Don’t I know it. One’s a nut, an’ the other one’s a bonehead pain in the keister,” Sarge let out a dramatic sigh, and shook his head, “Kids these days. Whatcha gonna do? Oh, well…” He rubbed his hands together delightedly, “Let’s finish this baby up! No more dilly dallyin’. If we git it done quick enough, maybe we can still use Grif as target practice. He’s a slow-ass soma bitch.”

{"Okay. But, if you accidently blow him up this time, I am not picking up his pieces. I do not know if his body has had all its shots."}

“Good man! Let’s get crackin’!”

**❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋**

  
So, yeah, that had been fuckin’ fan-tastic. Grif was just grateful that he had somehow managed to get far enough away before his goddamn psychopathic CO had started test-firing his “cosmic ray”. The idea that he had actually called him back, _cajolingly_ , trying to get him to “just come on back, now, an’ stand just ‘round about…there!” And, then, Sarge’d actually been pissed when Grif had yelled back, “No, thanks! I got " _orders_ " or somethin' to follow, man- I mean, _Sir_.”

That’d been fun, alright. If almost having a laser burn your ass off could be considered “fun”. Shit.

Grif sighed, and realized that Simmons was still in his weird-ass headspace, even though he was standing less than a foot from Grif’s lounging, stretched out form. He, normally, would’ve, at the very least, bitched Grif out for being a lazyass son of a bitch, _by now_.

Grif opened his mouth to say… something. He wasn’t really sure what it was going to be, yet, but that had never stopped him before. And that is when Simmons, out of the damn clear ~~blue~~ red sky (Sarge’s madness is spreading. Fuck!), very seriously, and a little desperately, asked, “Grif?...Do you think… I’m crazy?”

… Oh. My. God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Snack Facts in the Chill Zone  
>   
> Thank You For Reading! A certain someone does something "unthinkable" in next chapter...It'll be up soon! Tomorrow, or next day at the latest. It is partially typed already, and I am _itching_ to get to some stuff I  love in Chapters Three, and Four, and the creepy one with VIC coming up eventually... Can I just say that these characters are so amazing to write for. I love these guys!  
>   
> And, I love you all, too!  
> ♡–MissyAnn❀


	2. Snack Facts In The Chill Zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because, I can read your _mind_ , Simmons,” Grif mocked him, his voice telegraphing the smirk hidden behind his helmet, “In fact, I’m reading it, _riiight nooow_.”  
>   
>  [Richard scoffed at the very _idea_. “Dude, fuck him! He’s bluffing,” the Alter assured Simmons.]  
>   
>  “Oh God, Grif, don’t!,” Simmons, sounded absolutely **horrified** , though, as he slapped his hand on top of his helmet, as if to shield his innermost thoughts, “Don’t DO that!… Uh, I mean,... don’t say that.”  
>   
> Grif chuckled, a little, to himself. He wasn’t sure why he liked this nutball kissass, sometimes, but, dammit, he just couldn’t seem to help himself.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Special Thanks to Aryashi who has helped me so much with format! Hugs!*  
>   
> This is a long Chapter, and it was so fun to write. We are slowly getting into subject matter that has some very long reaching implications.  
>   
> New Chapter Tags I'm putting here because they are important, but I already have way too many tags: First mention of -elsewhere-, First Implications of: Forced Re-education Camp/Aversion Therapy, Personal Homophobia, Grimmons- Dom/Sub undertones, Simmons (Host) acting based off "Alter" Richard’s suggestions, Richard/Alter’s Underlying Violent Tendencies/Thoughts, Insensitivity Toward Mental Issues due more to Ignorance than Cruelty, oh yeah, and frickin' adorable jerks that were made for each other  
>   
> Note: Richard often hides away during more intimate moments, or moments that seem they may go that way. He, personally, wants none of that. Also, we will get more into Grif’s physical description next chapter, when he and Simmons are a little more…”chill” with each other.

Timeline: Blood Gulch-Still Approx. 1 week Before the Tank Incident

_Grif opened his mouth to say…something. He wasn’t really sure what it was going to be, yet, but that had never stopped him before. And, that was when Simmons, out of the damn clear ~~blue~~ red sky (Sarge’s madness is spreading. Fuck!), very seriously, and a little desperately, asked, “Grif?...Do you think… I’m crazy?”_

_…Oh. My. God._

Oh. My. God. Grif didn’t even know where to _start_. It was like Christmas come early. He’d given him a frickin’ free pass!  
  
Grif leaned forward eagerly, thinking of all the over-the-top kissassery, of how Simmons _always_ sided with Sarge…How one minute they’d be chill like back in Basic, and, then, the next…yeah…He thought about how paybacks a bitch, nerd.

But, then…he saw how Simmons had tensed. Just _waiting_ for it. And…he couldn't do it.  
  
*Sigh*  
  
Son of a bitch.  
  
Lame.  
  
He told himself it was because he couldn’t stand being  that predicable, although he knew that, at times, he really could be. But, deep down he knew that it was more that while the poor son of a bitch needed some honesty, maybe, shit…maybe, he needed a little… _ugh_ , “kindness”, too.  
  
Grif did raise a messed-up, kooky kid for years on his own, after all. He got it.

Grif sighed through his nose, and began in a calm tone, “Look man, I think you’ve probably been through a lot of fucked up shit. Now, I’m not gonna lie,” The orange armored soldier _actually_ began listing one-by-one on the fingers of his right hand, “You can be an asshole, a know-it-all, a kissass, and a  huge fuckin’ nerd. But crazy?...”

He was on his fifth digit, his thumb, when he got to “crazy", and he lazily waved it away, “ _Nah_. Not anymore than the rest of us, anyway. I don’t know how much of a ringing endorsement _that_ is, though…”

Simmons released the breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, and his whole posture, just, slightly, relaxed. Which for Simmons, at this point in his life, was the equivalent of Grif curling up like a big ol’ tomcat on a sun drenched windowsill. Which, yes, Grif actually _had_ done that on more than one occasion. But, that was back when he was much, _much_ smaller.

“...Thanks, Grif.”

Grif could actually _hear_ the almost shy smile in Simmons' voice, and he was so damn **stupid** proud of himself. He really was a super top secret caregiver at heart, which _pissed him off_ to no end cause that bullshit is a lot of **work**.

Riding on a kindness high, after such a long, dry spell filled with apathetic snarkery, Grif did the unthinkable. The unfathomable.

“Sooo…wanna go raid my snack drawer with me?”

He tried to sound bored, and nonchalant. As if this wasn’t something that He. Just. Doesn’t. Do. There was a limited supply of good shit that got sent his way, in particular, due to the whole one-man draft, and the opposition feeling sorry for him, and themselves, for being on the losing side of the argument. And, Grif had never been one to squander his precious goods.  
  
But, it had just come out of his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to retract it, or, strangely enough, to even _want_ to.

“Er…Uhh…,” Simmons knew Grif well enough to be absurdly touched by the gesture, and, yet, being him…, “U-umm,” his voice cracked, “I’m supposed to be p-patrolling…erm… _we’re_ supposed to be patrolling…”

“Ah, Simmons, come on! Donut and Lopez are doing whatever it is they do in Donut’s room when they’re not patrolling, –Hey, 'Don’t ask, Don’t tell', man-," Grif stifled his laughter as Simmons groaned, and the orange armored soldier continued, “...or Lopez isn’t helping to build fuckin’ doomsday devices for one of the teams. Sarge is locked up in his workroom/mad scientist lab, and, remember that radio transmission we intercepted? I’m sure the Blues are _still_ waiting for their Monopoly pieces to pass through Caboose’s system, dude! He swallowed _all_ of them, if you remember, except the top hat, for some reason… “  
  
[“ _You_ intercepted the transmission, Simmons. Oh, and that rookie probably wanted to wear the top hat on top of his goddamn helmet,” Richard sounded contemplative. He was never quite sure what to think of that Blue rookie...]  
  
“Yeah, you’re right,” Simmons, without thought, agreed with Richard aloud… _in front of Grif_ , and chuckled, “He probably _did_ want to try to wear it on his helmet.”  
  
Grif eyed him warily. “Sure… _Annnyways_ , trust me, they’re too busy to be messin’ with us.”  
  
Simmons hummed thoughtfully.  
  
Before the kissass could think up another thing to worry about, Grif continued, “Come on, buddy…”, he threw out the bait, “I even got your favorite... Reese’s Big Cups.”  
  
“R-Really!,” the maroon soldier’s voice squeaked a little in his excitement, ”Oh, I haven’t been able to have those in _years_.”  
  
[“Ewww, gross!,” Richard made gagging noises in Simmons head, “Don’t you fucking _dare_. I’m basically _allergic_ to peanuts, you prick!”  
Simmons sighed internally, “Oh my God, Richard. Shut. Up. You’re being kind of an idiot. I can’t even tell you all the ways that doesn’t make sense.”]  
  
But, still, Simmons smiled. As much as Richard was always the “older” one of the two of them, every now and then, _he_ acted like the spoiled kid he, sometimes, accused Simmons of being…Wait. Simmons was distracted by a random thought.  
  
“Wait a second,” Simmons turned suspiciously to Grif, “How did _you_ know that Reese’s was my favorite?”  
  
“Because, I can read your _mind_ , Simmons,” Grif mocked him, his voice telegraphing the smirk hidden behind his helmet, “In fact, I’m reading it, _riiight nooow_.”  
  
[Richard scoffed at the very _idea_. “Dude, fuck him! He’s bluffing,” the Alter assured Simmons.]  
  
“Oh God, Grif, don’t!”, Simmons, though, sounded absolutely **horrified** , as he slapped his hand on top of his helmet, as if to shield his innermost thoughts, “Don’t DO that!…Uh, I mean,...don’t say that.”  
  
Grif chuckled, a little, to himself. He wasn’t sure why he liked this nutball kissass, sometimes, but, dammit, he just couldn’t seem to help himself.  
  
“Calm down, nerd. You told me a long time ago. Wow, you really don’t know **what** you talk to me about once you start rambling on, do you? That’s just _sad_ , Simmons.” Grif shook his head, and clucked his tongue, teasingly at him, “ Just fuckin’ _sad_. “  
  
Simmons cocked his pretty helmet-covered head regally back at him. “Shut up, dumbass. Now, where are the sweets?”  
  
[Oh, fuck, Richard thought to himself, this felt…not right…not allowed. Kinda like they were…fucking… _flirting_ , in a weird way... It reminded him-It reminded him... He couldn’t think about it. Simmons _couldn’t ever know_. And, Richard just  bailed, as he was prone to do. Apt to show up, again, whenever he damn well felt like it (Or, when Simmons really needed him.).]  
  
Simmons was used to this, Richard’s long absences, and then pop ins, or long stays, so he thought nothing of it. Instead, he focused in on the man before him, and asked, “Well?”  
  
Grif leaned back, lazily, squinting at the other soldier. Simmons was starting to look a lot more like _Simmons_. His posture was reverting to stick in the ass snob, rather than fidgety, and just _tense_ dude on the verge of a complete freak out. That was better. But, Grif had his image to keep up, didn’t he? So, he sighed in a put-upon fashion, as if this whole hanging out in his space deal hadn’t been **his** idea, at all.  
  
Slowly getting up and stretching until his back cracked, Grif gestured grandly toward the base, “Follow me. Forbidden delights await.”  
  
“Oooh, fuck you! That sounded like Donut,” Simmons complained, but he followed, and trailed behind Grif into the base, and toward the Hawaiian man's room.  
  
“I **know** that, Simmons. I was  fucking with you,” Grif replied succinctly.  
  
“Well, stop it.” Simmons voice was firm, but then, he completely ruined it by yelping out in surprise, “ _What, Asshole! What!_ ,” when Grif, with no warning whatsoever, threw his arm out across the doorway, effectively barring the passage into his room.  
  
Simmons stumbled right into him, and had to grasp onto Grif’s forearm to steady himself.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Grif actually frickin’ _yawned_ , “No armor in the Chill Zone.”  
  
Simmons released Grif in annoyance, and shoved ineffectually at him. He didn’t budge an inch. Considering how lazy Grif normally was, he was surprisingly strong when he wanted to be.  
  
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!,” Simmons bitched, “Even helmets?”  
  
“Even…helmets,” Grif repeated, bewildered, “Even _helmets_ …What?...How…How are we supposed to **eat** , genius?" Simmons could tell Grif was looking at him like he’d lost his mind. Like for reals, and for good, this time.  
  
Simmons, suddenly sounding _timid_ , for Christ’s sake, suggested, “We could just…raise our visors... maybe? I mean, technically, we’re still on duty for another…12 and a half…minutes…approximately…”  
  
Oh, now, Grif. Was. PISSED.  
  
“Oh my fucking God, dude! Stop trying to bend the rules, instead of break them! It’s goddamn annoying and pathetic! Sarge isn’t _here_ , right now, Simmons, so stop trying to kiss his ass! No armor means, no armor! Now, Get. In. Here., Close. The. Damn. Door., and **Relax**. Already…Yeesh!”  
  
Grif’s arm had dropped as he was bitching a silent Simmons out, and he stomped off into the room, muttering under his breath.  
  
His thoughts ran something like this, The guy’s gotta be _ordered_ to relax. I can’t fucking believe that shit. I need some sugar, right f’ n now.  Definitely, before I talk to him, again. He made me flip out in my Chill Zone! Asshole!  
  
Grif yanked off his helmet, and because his back was turned, he didn't see Simmons mirror his action, only with more measured movements. As Grif sat heavily down on his bunk, slammed open his “snack drawer”, which was really his scarred bedside, or bunkside, drawer, he grabbed the first thing he saw. HoHos. Eh. Good. Not his _favorite_ , Oreos, but no time to rummage. Desperate times, and all that. He opened the packet, ate one, and, after a moment, felt the blessed sugar hit his system. Ohhh, fuuuck,…that was better.  
  
Feeling immeasurably more relaxed (More _himself_.), Grif looked up to see Simmons… still in the threshold of the room…with his helmet off, now,…and _watching_ him so closely. And, with that fucking _face_ …Shit, he was pretty…Grif always started to forget (Made himself forget.) what a pretty dude he really was…  
  
That damn creamy-ass skin with tiny, barely there freckles just over the bridge of his nose (He was such a little, annoying bitch about staying out of the sun when outta the protective armor…), eyes that were a deep dark, but, somehow, bright green... A pretty normal, but nice, Grif guessed, color (He didn't know who the fuck he thought he was kidding. He'd never seen eyes like his before...). But, it was the long, thick lashes, the way Simmons' eyes were a little bit too big, always looking fucking startled, or innocent, or some crazy ass thing…That was what really caught (And, kept.) your attention... Doll’s eyes. Only, ya know, not like fuckin’ _horrifying_ , like that could be. (Grif kinda wanted to see him with a little…nothing extreme!… just, maybe... a little mascara and... eyeliner... maybe? Just to see... _Jesus Christ_ , Simmons would _kill_ him if he knew he’d thought that…)  
  
Simmons, even, had those lips that Kira, Grif’s old girlfriend, used to show him **holo-pics** overlaid on top of her own lips of, (Sooo, annoying) saying she wished she had them. Ummm, what were they called?… Cupid’s bow! Lame name.  
  
But the real kicker? For Grif, anyway? Was that the son of bitch wore his deep red, not a hint of orange to be found, hair **long**. Well, a little past his shoulders, anyway. (Grif couldn't believe how frickin' fast his hair had grow back since Basic.) Normally, it,  always, was pulled back in a low tail, but there had been a couple times… uggghh, that son of a bitch. It was like he knew Grif’s weaknesses. Pretty hair, pretty boys. Shit. Kai' d be laughing her ass off at him. But, it, honestly, didn’t make any sense. The hair thing. Simmons was sensitive about his girly looks. _That_ much was obvious (Oh, boohoo. What a _tragedy_ to be freaking hot. Even, if it _was_ chick hot.). So, why would he do something to look _more_ like a chick? It just didn’t…  
  
Simmons shifted, and Grif realized with an unfamiliar pang of self-consciousness that he had done it, _again_. Like the first time, back in Basic, when he had first seen Simmons without his armor on. He had spaced out, staring at him, like a fucking  weirdo stalker. But, Simmons _was_ just standing there, staring right back at him. And,  he’d started it, the staring, first! So Grif asked, sharper than he intended to, but he was feeling defensive, “ _What?_ ”  
  
[Richard had popped back, for the time being (Simmons' anxiety about Grif getting so pissed at him had drawn him back out.), while Grif had been scarfing the snack cake, and he was thoughtful. “Simmons, listen to me, man. If we could _just_ get a blood sample. I **swear** , this son of a bitch has hypoglycemia… And, quit with the mooning, idiot. He’s alright, but he's not _that_ attractive. Jesus, Kid, the way you see him... it just doesn't make any goddamn sense! And, his nose was totally broken before, and not set quite right. Maybe, he _could_ be better-looking, if you’d just let me…”  
“Richard, shut your face!,” Simmons yelled internally, “What are we gonna do with a blood sample? Give it to that freaking Doc guy? And, for the last time, I am NOT letting you ‘break his nose, just real quick’. What is the  matter with you?!”  
“What’s the matter with you, Kid?,” Richard grumped, “I _said_ I’d re-set it!”]  
  
“What are you still looking at?,” Grif demanded, “Do I have some shit on my face?”  
  
“No!,” Simmons quickly answered them both, aloud, and then continued nervously to Grif, “It’s just…you only took off your helmet.”  
  
“So did you," Grif pointed out, “And what are you still doing out there? Get in here,  & Shut. The. Damn. Door.” There. That’d get him moving.  
  
Simmons didn’t know why he kept letting Grif order him around. He felt tingly, and too warm… He must just be hungry.  
  
As the redhead walked slowly into Grif’s room, reaching behind him to press the "Close Door" function on the door panel, he heard an all too familiar voice in his head.  
  
[“Have some pride in yourself!,” Richard snapped, “ Straighten your spine!”]  
  
Simmons obeyed without thought, and marched confidently right up to Grif, who was still sitting on his bunk. The redhead stood toe-to-toe with the Hawaiian man, and looked haughtily down his pert little nose, about to demand his promised treat.  
  
But, that was when Grif looked up at him, straight into his eyes. Grif’s dark, surprisingly (secretly half-breed) ocean blue flashing up to meet Simmons deep, bright green. There were no fireworks, or birds chirping love songs. What there was, was a very natural, healthy, and almost visceral pull that each felt toward the other. A hunger that, surprisingly for Grif, for once, had nothing to do with food. But, neither of them was sure who should take the first step to close that yawning, suddenly cursed, gap. Grif would normally do it, but Simmons’ repressed, closeted status kinda freaked him out. And, Simmons was sort of lost about how…to even…start? As for Richard, he’d, unsurprisingly, just nope’d out of the whole affair, again. See ya later, dude.  
  
As both soldiers waited for the other to do _something_ , the moment slipped away.  
  
Simmons blinked rapidly, and cleared his throat nervously, while Grif just huffed, and looked back down into his snack drawer.  
  
As he started delving and rummaging around, the orange armored soldier said, in as careless of a tone as he could manage, “Sit down, dude," he patted a spot on the bed beside him, “I got your stuff right… _Aha_!”  
  
Grif pulled out the bright orange wrapped Reese’s Big Cups. From what he understood, a lot of the most popular candies, sodas, and cookies had been around for  hundreds of years. He wasn’t sure he believed that, but he pushed the thought aside, and triumphantly presented the chocolate to the kissass.  
  
Simmons looked at it with the most ridiculous look of, almost, _awe_ , as he shoved the moment from before deep inside to be examined & picked apart later when he was alone. Or, as alone as he ever was. Hopefully, when Richard was -elsewhere- not around, however that worked.  
  
Simmons went to reach for the chocolate, but Grif, at the last moment, held it back from him. And the redhead _growled_ in frustration.  
  
Grif froze. Hearing that noise come out of him…F ‘n hot, as hell… Wait, what?... Oh my God. Grif realized that he’d just frickin' “Wait, what’ed” _himself_. Whoa. He really needed to get more sleep.  
  
But, like Simmons, he pushed such thoughts aside for later review. Like, maybe, when he was nap-spying on the nerd, instead of patrolling.  
  
“Nu-uh, that wasn’t the deal, Simmons,” Grif reminded him, patting the bed, again, “You’re supposed to _chill_ , man.”  
  
Simmons didn’t exactly remember them talking about that, but then he didn’t remember a lot of things, so slowly, and hesitantly he sat down beside Grif, and cleared his throat, again.  
  
As Grif turned a bit toward him, and, _finally_ , handed him his Reese’s, their armored legs touched, and their gloved fingers brushed. Simmons started like a timid deer at a waterhole sensing danger. And, then, tried to cover it up with a cough. Smooth.  
  
“Uhhh…did you k-know…,” Simmons squeaked, turning the Reese’s over and over in his hands. Grif’s leg was still resting against his. When Grif had gone to move it a second ago… Simmons had, _embarrassingly_ , leaned his own closer to him. Leaning his longer leg against Grif's like a ol’ faithful _hound dog_. Grif had looked down, a little surprised, and, then, glanced up at Simmons from underneath his eyelashes,  smirking at him, like a dick! (“Oh God, don’t think about dicks, right now,” Simmons thought to himself a little desperately, so grateful that Richard was -elsewhere- not here, right now.)  
  
Shit. Fuck. Simmons cleared his throat for the umpteenth time, he was going to get a sore throat if he couldn’t quit with that crap, and tried again, “Did you k-know that Reese’s has been around since 1928? And, uh, the population of the United States was 120, 509,000 when Reese’s was first introduced?...Oh yeah, and May 18th is official I love Reese’s Day. Um, November is official Peanut Butter Lovers Month…”  
  
Simmons stopped when he realized that Grif was _staring_ openly at him, again. He instantly felt very self-conscious, and uncomfortable.  
  
“What?,” he asked, in a very different tone then Grif had used earlier. It was more anxious, and unsettled.  
  
[“…Kid?...What’s the matter?,” Richard sounded a little out of it. Sleepy, or something, “Man, can’t I chill for _five fucking minutes_ …Is this asshole bothering you?”  
“No, Richard. It’s _fine_. I just-…“ ]  
  
“You know Snack Facts?,” Grif questioned, leaning back to appraise him, and perhaps seeing him in a whole new, and better, light.  
  
“Um, yeah…I guess?," Simmons began a little nervously, but then a slight twitch, and a nod, and unbeknownst to Grif, _Richard_ continued, his voice slightly different, somehow, and taking on that cocky edge it, sometimes, got, “I know lots of stuff, _Grif_. Relevant  & otherwise.”  
  
“Oh, Snack Facts are always relevant, man.“ Grif assured, as he leaned a little more into his space, “What do you know about Oreos?”  
  
Simmons was silent, looking off into middle distance, looking like he was thinking about it. Really, he was berating, and talking to, Richard.  
  
[“Richard! Grif, _can’t_ know. He can never know!”  
“Ah, chill out, Simmons. He doesn’t suspect anything. He isn’t really _that_ observant…”  
“You’d be surprised.” Simmons changed the subject, “Now, what did we find out about Oreos, again?”  
“Shut up. I don’t care,” Richard grouched.  
“Richard, come on,” Simmons complained back at him, “You know, I can’t always  remember stuff. Don’t be a dick.”  
“I am Dick.”  
“Eugh, I can’t believe you…Don’t play games with me, right now, Richard…”  
“… _Fine_. But, then, I’m. Out. This just... I don’t really like this… _this_."  
“Deal.”]

Simmons had been quiet for what felt like awhile, and Grif was right about to tell him to just forget about it, although secretly he was kinda, really, disappointed, when the taller man’s eyes refocused in on him, and his shoulders straightened.  
  
In a recitation that would make the Worldwide Tour Guide Association proud, Simmons began, “The Oreo’s Birthday is March 6, 1912. Which is the same year the Titanic sank, and the South Pole was discovered. _Although_ , it must be noted that some historians argue on this point, and claim the South Pole was discovered in 1911. But, back to the cookies... Oreo’s were originally packaged in bulk tins, and sold by weight, with grocers paying .30 cents per pound for them. The cookie design, itself, has undergone five changes since 1912, but the current design seen since all the way back in 1953 still exists until this day, and consists of 12 flowers, 12 dots, and 12 dashes per side. Each cookie, also, contains 90 ridges-”  
  
Simmons was cut off by Grif cracking the fuck up. He grabbed his belly, and practically _hooted_ out, “I…I can’t…I can’t… Holy **crap** , if I wasn’t looking straight at you, I’d fuckin' _swear_ you pulled all that up on your HUD!... Sounded…Hohoho-shit, you sounded like one of those hot little tour guide chicks with the short skirts from back on the island!” He snorted out another laugh, “You-you know all that stuff, and that’s not even _your_ favorite! You really ARE the ultimate king nerd! That’s  stupid funny!”  
  
Simmons remained silent, but his left eye twitched, and his left hand holding the Reese's packet, that he still hadn't even opened, tightened slightly. *Crackle*  
  
“Oh dammit,” Grif thought, the laughter dying on his lips, “I forgot he’s having one of his PMS days. Son of a bitch.”  
  
Now, Grif’s mind could move lightning fast when he wanted it to... which is to say, like, never. So, more, like, when he _needed_ it to. He accessed the most current situation in mere moments, and came to the conclusion that: he had fucked up bad, it was the wrong time to mess with Simmons about…whatever he’d just said that set him off… Was it the nerd thing? But he  always called him that. He’d just upped his ranking. You’d think Simmons would be grateful! He had to change tracks without Simmons realizing that was what he was doing. And, he could totally do it. He could be a lot smarter, and quicker, than he let on when he wanted to be. He just only did shit when he _wanted_ , or needed, to.  
  
With only a handful of seconds having gone by, Grif smoothly picked up where he’d left off, distracting Simmons from his inner turmoil, he believed, quite nicely, “At least you’re spoutin’ off stuff that’s actually _important_ for once, huh? Oreos an’ Reese’s… And what’s your problem, anyway, man? You still haven’t eaten your chocolate. Too damn skinny to be on a _diet_ , Simmons. Now, talk, and eat.”  
  
“That’s fucking disgusting, Grif,” Simmons sneered, distracted by the very idea of _himself_ actually talking, and eating, at the same time. _He_ had some manners! Unlike, _some_ people, who shall not be named... **Grif**. But, he opened his Reese’s, anyway.  
  
“Yeah, yeah... _Mmffm_...,” Grif mumbled, through a mouthful of the Oreos (Score!) he’d found stashed in the bottom of his snack drawer, as he silently congratulated himself on another Simmons melt-down averted. He swallowed, and demanded, “Come on, more Snack Facts! You actually have something _worthwhile_ to say, for once. Share the wealth, dude!”  
  
Simmons rolled his eyes at what an _asshole_ Grif was. Even when he was kinda, maybe... trying to be nice? Simmons was the same, though, and he lived with someone in his head that could be incredibly chill, and, then, he could go… yeeaah, it was just best to avoid that whole deal. Despite all his thoughts (Singular. Currently. Calm. And. Singular.), he, nonetheless, brightened when Grif looked expectantly at him, and just barely nudged his knee with his own.  
  
And, when Grif gave up with the rummaging, just pulled the _whole drawer_ out, and upended it out onto the bed in-between them, bright, cheery wrappers, and cellophane crinkling and crackling merrily amidst the two men, Simmons, actually laughed aloud, and could, for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, actually feel himself start to genuinely relax.  
  
That is, until Grif stood up, directly in front of him…and started taking off his body armor…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Chapter 3: Just…Can I Smell It First?  
>   
> A little something extra is added to Snack Time.  
>   
> 
> 
> Excerpt from Chapter 3: 
> 
>   
> "...I didn't mean...," Simmons blushed, flustered beyond belief, "See, _this_ is why I shouldn't have too much sugar! I don't even know what I'm **saying** , anymore!"
> 
> Grif cocked his head at him, "Just _sugar_ gets you like this?"
> 
> "I...didn't have a lot as a kid. It was...ya know...gluttonous...sinful..."
> 
> Grif scoffed, "Yeah, sinfully delicious. Man, if you're loopy on a couple a' candies and snack cakes, I'd kill to see you... Wait..."
> 
> "What?...Wait, what?...Grif, why the look?...Grif? What's with the **look**?!... What are you up to?"
> 
> **********
> 
> Will Richard let this... _thing_ , whatever it is, growing between our boys stand? Grif is pretty harmless, right? The "kid", Simmons, has never been hurt due to anything that has to do with _Grif_...
> 
> Meanwhile, an unforgivable sacrifice involving a certain orange soldier looms ever closer.
> 
> Chapter Three, which I _love_ , as it's fun, and silly, at parts, but is the real start to showing what is really going on, and has gone on, should be up in a couple of days. It'll be long, too, as I really don't want to have to split it up.
> 
> Love to you all!
> 
> ♡–MissyAnn❀


	3. Just... Can I Smell It First?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grif was _staring_ at him. And, he, honestly, wasn’t looking mad, at all. Or, even surprised, anymore. Just  curious. _Intrigued_. Like, maybe, he was thinking he’d kinda _liked_ it, for Christ’s sake. And, oh, crap, Simmons thought, don’t let Richard see that fucking glint in Grif’s eye, or he was probably gonna sock him in the face. And after Simmons had just…
> 
> Simmons did the only thing he could think of to distract Richard, and, hopefully, get out of trouble. (He couldn’t even believe he was still getting into trouble for shit at his age! It was **embarrassing**! He’d die of humiliation if anybody ever found out.)...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long Chapter, and they won’t always be this long. But, more is being revealed regarding the past, and why a certain redhead may feel led to do particular things in the future. Also, it was important to break it in a certain place before we move on to _another_ aspect I am going to have to tag.
> 
> **Reminder** : Brackets: Conversation enclosed within [Brackets] means the conversation/thoughts are going on internally, within Simmons head, not aloud, and involve Richard. Many times these are Richard's thoughts, or they may be internal conversing between Alter/Richard and Host/Simmons.
> 
> This Chapter has the Intro. of Robonuts. I hate that ship name, though. I call them Double O DoLo La Pesado, or just DoLo. 
> 
> **Tags for this Chapter** : Further mentions Re-orientation/Re-education Camp, Alter/Richard Recollection of First Step/Days of Aversion Therapy, Homophobia, Red Team Red blush activate, Relationship/Description Tags appear from out the wild ~~blue~~ red yonder!, Bratty Behavior, Calming Enforcement Words, Insensitivity Toward Mental Issues Due more to Ignorance than Cruelty, background mention of Chucker

_And, when Grif gave up with the rummaging, just pulled the **whole drawer** out, and upended it out onto the bed in-between them, bright, cheery wrappers, and cellophane crinkling and crackling merrily amid the two men, Simmons, actually laughed aloud, and could, for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, actually feel himself start to genuinely relax. _  
  
_That is, until Grif stood up, directly in front of him… and started taking off his body armor…_  
  
“G-Grif?…What are you d-doing?” Simmons questioned, in a higher pitch then he liked to admit he was capable of.

“What does it look like? Remember the rules, Simmons?,“ Grif sounded nonchalant as hell, as he removed his armor piece by piece, and chucked it across the room like a fucking uncouth slob, “No armor in the Chill Zone. Now, quit wasting precious Snack Time, and get that shit off. There’s a lot of good crap there,“ he gestured to the mound of candies, cookies, and snack cakes, “that I don’t know useless, awesome facts about.”

When Simmons didn’t move or speak for the longest time, just kept watching Grif’s hands as they removed another, and then, another piece of armor, Grif tried another tactic. He really knew this nerd too damn well at this point.

“May-be you just **don’t know** any more stuff, huh?,” Grif taunted, “That’s alright, buddy. I mean, it’s not like you’re some kind of **uncertified genius** that knows even the most pointless of facts, like…who was that guy again?...” Why am I _doing_ this?, Grif asked himself.

“…Some game-show dude from the 21st century…,” Grif leaned down, practically into Simmons lap, as he unlatched the last piece of leg armor, and tossed it behind him, in the general direction of the rest. *Clank*

Was he _trying_ to make the kissass lose his shit, after he had, literally, just kept that from happening?, Grif wondered. Huh… Fuck if he knew what he was doing.

The Hawaiian man straightened, and then smirked right down into Simmons fuming, upturned face, “I don’t know why I’m asking _you_ …”

He couldn’t help himself. God, that fucker could get so red. Sarge would be proud.

“…You _obviously don’t know_.” Oh, fuck! Direct hit in the overinflated, yet, insecure ego. 200 pts.!

Simmons stood. He hardly took a step, and the two were right in each other’s “personal bubble”.

“Ken Jennings. 2004. U.S. syndicated game-show known as: Jeopardy. Winner of 74 games in a row, “ Simmons gritted out through clenched teeth, as he angrily removed a piece of armor for every fact, and, shockingly, _tossed it onto the ground_. He normally always babied his armor, but he was pissed. He wasn’t even really sure why. But, then, no one could rile him up like Grif. “Religious Affiliation: Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Lost to Nancy Zerg on his attempted 75th game. Was married to-“

With how close they were standing, Grif had been having to sway back, periodically, so he didn’t get a bony elbow to the face (On “accident”, he was sure.), or head-butted in the gut.

Finally, Grif just freaking gave up, and cut him off in disbelief, “Alright. Alright, already. Son of a bitch. Why do you _remember all_ that shit? And, stop throwing your armor around. You’re gonna, suddenly, realize you’re doing it, and, then, blame it on  me. Like it’s **my** damn fault, or something!”

Grif shook his head at him, but moved to stand beside, rather than in front of him. This just happened to, also, be closer to the mound of treats on the bed. Not that that had anything to do with it! I mean, it wasn’t like Simmons’ hissy fit was causing protective feelings to rear up in Grif toward his treat stash, or anything…

“It _is_ your fault,” Simmons grumbled, but he removed the last pieces of his armor in a much calmer state of mind. And, he figured that he must not really have been that upset, anyway. More annoyed. Richard didn’t bother with worrying about him when he was just annoyed. After all, with how much he was around Grif every day, he spent too much of his life that way.

He’d gotten upset, and Richard had let him be. Had, maybe, trusted him to take care of himself? Simmons was already forgetting how he must have been more frustrated, than anxious, -which could, possibly, come across as “in danger”-, and it was quite normal for Richard to let him deal with annoyances on his own.

It just felt very freeing to not have someone who acted like a damn big brother looking over his shoulder, right then. It could be a little… _uncomfortable_ , sometimes. And, Simmons felt himself… relax… into momentary singularity.

He stood up straight when he, like Grif, was down to his bodysuit. Somehow, you could really tell the difference in their height without the armor. Did Grif have lifts in his boots, or some such ridiculous shit?

The almost half a foot, around five inches, that Simmons had on Grif made him feel momentarily more confident, and he turned more fully toward the other man.

When Grif glanced up at him, Simmons tilted his head cockily down, repeated his last words, and then said in a matching arrogant tone (His tone, if not his words, sounding on awful lot like Richard.), “It _is_ your fault…You should polish my armor for being such an _asshole_.”

Grif eyed him disbelievingly for a long moment, and then snickered, “Do you even _know me_ , Simmons? I’d polish your **asshole** every fucking day, before I polished your _armor_ …”

Even as the words left his lips, Grif thought to himself in disbelief, “Did I just say that _Out Loud_?” And, he watched as Simmons paled, and then, oh shit, there came that blush, that  Red Team Blush, again. Crap.

Simmons sunk back down onto the bunk, looking quite scandalized. (And, perhaps, protecting his virginal behind from this fiend.)

Grif actually felt a little _embarrassed_ , for God’s sake. Man, he seriously sucked at this… whatever it was he was trying to do here. He wasn’t even really sure (Or, maybe he wasn’t admitting it to himself, quite yet…). He started out, a little sheepishly, “Erm… Simmons… Look, man… I, uh…”

“Heeeyyy, LoLo?,” Donut’s voice, chipper as ever, drifted into the room… He sounded like he was standing _right outside Grif’s door_ , “Do you know where Grif’s hiding at?”

Grif and Simmons stared at each other. Grif was, once again, standing directly in front of the redhead, looking down into his eyes, as Simmons looked up at him. Only, now, rather than one smirking, and the other fuming, they wore matching, “ _Ugghh_ , fucking Donut… Wait… Oh, shit! We’re caught!” expressions. As one, their heads turned to see: “Closed”, flashing at them, from the door panel, rather than: “Lock: Engaged”.

{Lopez sighed in Spanish. “Seriously. I do not care.”}

“ _Simmons_ ,” Grif hissed under his breath, “You didn’t lock the fucking door, you dumbass!”

Simmons’ brow furrowed in confusion, and he mouthed more than spoke, “Why the hell would I have done _that_?”

But, Grif had been joined at the hip with this kissass for so long, that he could read his fucking body language well enough to pick up what words he had missed. He sneered, and gestured at the door, as he whispered in disgust, “I dunno, _nerd_. Maybe cause of something like this!”

“You’re right, LoLo!,” Donut’s cheery voice was heard again, “He probably _is_ squeezed into some tight hole somewhere getting a load off… Oh yeeaah, and where is _Simmons_ , anyway?”

The redhead looked down quickly, but Grif could still see how the blood had rushed to his face.

{“I did not say that. The worthless brother is in all probability here in his ‘Chill Zona’ attempting some form of pointless human seduction on the broken brother.”}

“Pa-sha! I don’t think _thaaat’s_ what’s going on, at all… I don’t even think Simmons  knows how to play Pinochle!”

{“Que es esto Pinochle? Estupido, Donut. It is a good thing you are muy lindo, rosado idiota.”}

“LoLo, I, **obviously** , already _know_ that,” Donut chided gently, but sternly, “ **I** think so, too…”

{“You are so vain, but still… wait, que? Did you understand…?”}

“Of course! I mean, you know that Grif is secretly _sooo_ in love with Simmons,… well, he could probably teach him anything!” The smile heard in Donut’s voice could have lit up the world.

Within the room, Grif looked startled as fuck, and a muttered, “Son of a-, _Shit_. What the hell, Donut?”, escaped his lips before he realized he’d even spoken aloud.

Simmons was somehow turning even _brighter_ Red Team Red, and he opened his mouth, obviously about to loudly squawk out something. Grif had no clue what it was going to be, but the kissass just had that squawky Simmons face going on.

Grif, honestly, didn’t even think about what he did next. One second, he was standing there looking shell-shocked as all hell, and the next, he had stepped forward, surprisingly smoothly, and dropped one hand heavily down onto Simmons’ shoulder, while his other lifted to press a finger against the redhead’s lips, effectively startling, silencing, offending, _and_ , arousing the furiously blushing other man, all at once.

{“You _do_ know they are in this room?”} Grif and Simmons heard a metallic fist *Knock* once on the door that separated the four of them. {“Right in here, Si?"}

Grif squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He could _feel_ the kissass _watching_ him. He didn’t know how he could have the dude basically, almost, on lock here (Wait, what?), and, yet,  he was, now, the one who felt… caught…

“Weeelll, Duuuh!,” the pink-armored soldier sighed dramatically, “Oh, it’s tooo bad, too. I guess I’ll have to _throw this food_ I made for him and Simmons _away_ … So Saaad… You know how much Grif _loooves_ to put things in his mouth… and swallow them down!"

Grif looked pained. Like he wanted to groan, or bang his head against a wall… but the siren call of **food** was too strong.

“Just leave it outside the door, dude,” he instructed, trying to sound normal. Whatever _that_ was around here, anyway.

“Ohhh, Grif! Buddy ol’ pal, you _are_ in there! Oh, I’d be  happy to! You _know_ how much I love to play roleplay!,” Donut _giggled_ , excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah…” Grif agreed, until he saw Simmons, questioningly and silently, as he was still successfully 'shushing' the redhead for the moment, arch an eyebrow at him, “… I mean, NO! No, I _Do. Not. Know._ ”

But, Donut paid him no heed, as he was busily clearing his throat, noisily & obnoxiously, before he continued talking to the… door?... Grif?...

“Good evening, Sir!,” Donut used his best ‘I’m a respectable gentleman’ voice, “My name is Franklin Delano Donut, and I will be your waiter this evening. And, how many will be joining your party on this lovely night?...”

“…”

“…Pssst! Grif!,” Donut broke character, “That means Simmons! He’s with you, right?”

Grif looked at the pretty boy nerd with Grif’s own finger pressed against his lips. He was looking up at the Hawaiian man like… well, he looked like he wasn’t sure what was going on, but that whatever it was, he wasn’t exactly adverse to it. At all. But, what the hell did he want Grif to say to the Rookie, though?

Grif found himself lightly squeezing the shoulder he had ahold of, and he answered unsurely, “Uhhh… n-…no?”

Under his finger, he felt Simmons mouth turn down into a frown. Ah, shit. Simmons could be so _difficult_. So different at different times. Sometimes, it was hard to know how he’d react. But for now... Wrong answer, apparently. Before Grif could think how to remedy it, cause seriously, he wanted to get to the _eating_ , and whatever came next…

*Chomp*

“Y-ow!,” Grif yelped out, more in surprise than pain, as he jerked back.

“I’ll take that as a ‘Ye-es!’,” Donut sang out.

“Duuude, did you just _bite me_?” If Grif’s eyebrows had gone any higher, they would’ve hit the ceiling.

Simmons had the grace to look stunned, and a little ashamed of himself, “Uhmm… Oops?”

“Kinky! Your party guest must be _veeery_ hungry!,” Donut sounded like he was fit ta’ split. The bastard.

“DONUT!,” Grif, exasperated beyond all means, yelled… at the door, “Fuck off!... Uh… But, seriously, though… leave the food, man.”

“Okey Dokey Artichokey! Come on, LoLo… LoLo, where are you going?”

{“Back to Blue Base. That Blue A.I. that thinks he is a ghost should be done ‘haunting’ the loud, dirty mouthed one for the night. I need a break from you estupido idiotas. And, I do not want to see the Creator, right now. He is my Padre no longer.”}

“Aww, I had a nice time, too!,” Donut sounded like he was making _kissy faces_ , for crying out loud, and Lopez really couldn’t have sighed any harder in Spanish, if he tried. “See you tomorrow night, hon! Oh, and don’t let Sarge see you!...Oh, oh, oh! And, tell the guy at the store…uhm… tell him… the General said ‘Hi’… He’ll get it!”

{"Oh, Si. Si. I will tell him that… en espanol. Buena noche, idiota dulce."}

Footsteps. Heavy robotic clunking, and light skipping in the opposite direction. And, everything got… quiet. Well, for Grif, anyway. For Simmons, things had been… a little less so.

[“SIMMONS!,” Richard was back like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, and He. Was. _Pissed_. “Did you just freaking _bite_ him?! What the FUCK?! I can’t leave you alone for one second!,” Richard had started shrieking at almost exactly the same time Grif had yelled at Donut.  
“Ooowww, my head… don’t… scream at me… _it huuurts_ …,” Simmons moaned. For a second… just a second… it had felt like his fucking head was going to **explode**.  
“That’s it, that’s IT! I’ve been super nice about this shit. You _know_ I don’t think _I_ even **like** this son of a bitch, and here you are… And, was he  touching you?! Simmons, that’s **bad** … I TOLD you… And, then, you _bite_ him?! You just sit there, and think about what you did, Kid. What are you? Fucking FIVE years old?!”]

Grif was _staring_ at him. And, he, honestly, wasn’t looking mad, at all. Or, even surprised, anymore. Just  curious. _Intrigued_. Like, maybe, he was thinking he’d kinda _liked_ it, for Christ’s sake. And, oh, crap, Simmons thought, don’t let Richard see that fucking glint in Grif’s eye, or he was probably gonna sock him in the face. And after Simmons had just _bit_ him like a fucking ferret, or an “ ‘ol faithful hound dog” gone feral, too!

Simmons did the only thing he could think of to distract Richard, and, hopefully, get out of trouble. (He couldn’t even believe he was still getting into trouble for shit at his age! It was **embarrassing**! He’d die of humiliation if anybody ever found out.)

He put the Reese’s opened, but uneaten, packet up into his (Their, at the moment) line at sight. Richard really, genuinely, **hated** peanut butter for some reason, despite how Simmons could **live** off all things peanut butter related.

[“The _Reese’s_ ,” Richard sneered, “Why do you still have that disgusting trash? And, ya know what?” Richard got all snooty. “I decided that I _don’t like it_ that he remembered that was your favorite. And, _how_ long ago did you tell him that, anyway? What’s this asshole keeping **notes** , or some shit! And, **another** thing,…”]

In Richard’s rising suspicion, he didn’t even notice that Simmons had pulled _both_ Reese’s out, and unwrapped one. That is, he didn’t notice until Simmons shoved one into his mouth. Whole.

Grif had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that Simmons had bit him, well, more of a sharp little, more surprising than painful, nip, really. The kissass had looked stunned as all hell, said the whole “Oops” thing, -He hadn’t known Simmons had it in him. Hmmm… Interesting…- (Grif wondered if he should have bit the nerd back. ‘Oops’. _Riiight._ And, hey, all’s fair in love and war, right?... Oh, fuck, he was so glad no one knew he’d thought that!), then, Simmons had done that ‘all lost _up in his head_ ’ thing, and Grif had gone to get the _picnic basket_ , for Christ’s sake, that Donut (Long gone, now. Thank God for small favors… and huge ones.) had left outside the door. Where in the hell had he even _found_ the damn thing? He’ d peeped in. Looked like… _sandwiches_. How the fuck… And, oh hell, yeah! More Oreos! Goddamn, you couldn’t say the Rookie didn’t know him.

Grif had come back, and sat down next to the nutter… Oh shit! That totally worked, too, as the nerd seemed to have a secret peanut butter addiction. It was good to know the kissass had a food obsession to exploit… er, uh… or, not _exploit_ , um… fuck. And, as Grif was thinking all these things, he turned…

And saw Simmons was pulling his chocolates out of their package, and holding them up like he was frickin’ _showing them to himself_ , and then, he, suddenly, fucking chowed down on one of them, whole, with the most goddamn _belligerent_ , “fuck-you” expression on his face…

Grif had started cracking up. Holy Hell, he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t think anyone else really got to see this side to Simmons. He seemed to only let it come out when he thought he was alone, or when he was with him, as far as Grif could tell, anyway. Sometimes, it could be a little worrying, not that he’d admit that _out loud_ or anything, but this time… Grif was just amused by the redhead’s antics.

As for Richard, though…

[“… I really thi- INK!- **Bleck!** Ohhh, you little _bitch_ ,” Richard breathed. For some reason, he hadn’t really thought the Kid would do it.  
“Mmmm… it’s _so, sooo_ goddamn good… Now, fuck off.”  
“I’m gonna strangle us in your sleep, Simmons,” Richard threatened, sounding like _he_ was strangling on his words, “I swear to god…”  
“You wouldn’t dare. You love me too much,” Simmons replied confidently. A little _smugly_.  
“Oh, yeah? You just wait, and see, Kid,” Richard promised, “You. Just. Wait. And. See.”  
“Hmmm… It’s worth it… Ohhh, look, I have _another_ one.” Simmons held the other Big Cup threateningly up to eye level.]

Distantly, they could hear Grif break out in another rash of chortles, “Simmons, Jesus Christ, what the fuck?! What- I can’t even- You fucking nut!”

[“…Okay! Okay,” Richard gave in, “I’m gonna ‘fuck off’, so we don’t have an allergic reaction… “  
“I keep telling you! _That doesn’t make sense_!,” Simmons protested.  
“Shut up. You’ll pay for this later, you damn brat. Now, just try to fucking behave yourself…”  
“Whatever…. I do what I want!”  
“…Suuure, you do, Kid. _Of course_ , you do. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”]

“…I do, though,” Simmons said aloud, grouchily, as things… quieted.

“You do what?,” Grif asked, wiping at his eyes.

Simmons looked at him, startled, and then swiftly looked down at his lap. He had kind of forgotten Grif was there, or that it was a big deal _if he was_. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. What had he done? What had he _said_? Oh, no, no, no. His thoughts cried out, **insisted** that “Grif _can’t_ know. He can never know!”

[“Mother fu-, What _now_? You just told me to fuck off, Simmons! Do I have to hold your damn hand through- Oh, no.”  
“If he knows- If they know-,” Simmons rambled, “They’ll lock us up, they’ll hate us, _he’ll_ hate us… L-Like he did… He was my… f-…f-…”  
He was already too far gone. And, when he got this bad, he started to  remember things. Son of a bitch! The Kid was all over the place today! This thing with Grif… Dammit! He ‘d even almost _remembered_ about… ]

And, to think this all happened within seconds. Simmons’ mind _raced_. Externally, he looked much the same. But, his internal fear of discovery was about to catch up to his external responses, and cause him to reveal (them) himself. Richard tried to reason with him. To remind him.

[“Simmons, remember where you are… Come on, you’re gonna blow it! Kid, just… chill out for a second…I don’t wanna have to…You’re not really giving me any choice here… Just… Sleep for a little bit, okay? Shhhh…”]

And, Richard did what he’d had to do so, so many times before. He pushed the Kid back, back, back into -elsewhere- this… space. Made it quiet… but, Jesus, not too dark! Richard wouldn’t be able to _think_ with all of Simmons’ screams if he did _that_. He reviewed the last few minutes in their mind that he had not been present for, and, therefore, not privy to. Sometimes, he thought of it like rewinding.

Simmons could never know just how much he was able to retrieve. The Kid couldn’t hide things from Richard, as well as Richard was able to… well, he didn’t like to think of it as _hiding_ , so much as **Protecting**... So, Richard did what he needed to do, and reviewed the last moments before Simmons had started unraveling, and had, unconsciously, or not, reached for him.

_“…I do, though,” Simmons said aloud, grouchily, as things… quieted._

_“You do what?,” Grif asked, wiping at his eyes._

Alright. He could play this off. Richard looked at Grif, trying to school himself into sounding more like _Simmons_ , and less like **himself**.

Simmons could be squeaky, and whiny, and unsure. Richard was the more confident between the two of them… But, still, he had to kind of psyche himself up to talk to Grif, at all. It wasn’t like he’d _never_ talked to the guy, well, bitched at him, before, but the circumstances felt different, and it made Richard so goddamn uncomfortable…

And, that edginess combined with the fucking taste of _peanut butter_ on his tongue was liable to drive him insane, or make him puke.

_Of course_ , the fucktards at the camp had incorporated Simmons' beloved food into the first days of aversion therapy. Before they had **really** gotten nasty.

They thought they were very fucking clever. Take something the Kid liked, and make him physically ill at the taste, or scent, of it. Like a fucking initial _object lesson_. What they didn’t know was that Simmons wasn’t exactly there for that, or a lot of the worst, the nightmare-inducing shit, that came later. That was Richard. Richard wouldn’t allow it for the Kid. Let Simmons eat his gag-worthy peanut butter garbage to his heart’s content. As long as Richard wasn’t around at the moment when he did. It had taken Richard _years_ to be able to stand the sight of peanut butter without having to swiftly take over, and just hurl his/their guts out. Sometimes, not even making it to a toilet, sink, or trash can.

He wouldn’t let them do that to the Kid. Hell, he wouldn’t even let him remember the parts he had actually been mentally present for. No fucking way.

And, he didn’t _really_ blame Simmons for being a brat about the whole peanut butter thing. He didn’t know. Richard wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , let him know. If he remembered that, he might start remembering what came next… Richard wished to god that had been the worst of it. Some frickin’ food aversion crap… Instead of…

“Dude? What’s going on in your head?,” Grif was starting to sound a little anxious.

Richard forced himself to snap out of it. His eyes focused, and he saw in his hand… sitting on top of its orange package… oh, son of a bitch. What was this? Some running joke at his expense? He wanted to throw it across the room. But, instead, he looked up at Grif, not even knowing that he had that cocky tilt to his head, that slightly calculating gleam in his eyes, and he forced himself to say, in his best ‘Simmons’ voice, “ _I do_ love… _peanut butter_ so fucking much.”  
  
Fuck his life.

Grif snorted, amused all over again, “Man, I can **tell** … " But, then, his voice got a little more serious, “I dunno, though, I think,… you, uh… dude, just don’t pull any of that kooky shit out when it’s not just us. Not everybody’s as chill as me, man… So… wanna see what the Rookie brought?“

Richard nodded, not, currently, trusting himself to speak too much.

Simmons was -elsewhere-, and the fatass was digging through some… picnic basket? Strange. Richard hadn’t gone back far enough to really know what that was all about, but he didn’t really care, at the moment…Of course, typical fatass, Grif was _totally_ interested in it. Sandwiches. Where the hell had they gotten bread? Oooh, and had Grif found another individual pack of Oreos? Apparently so. He was, _delightedly_ , sitting it down beside a first one that he must’ve pulled out, earlier, when Richard and Simmons had been distracted with each other. Richard could probably drop a bomb right next to the dumbass, and as long as he still had some Oreos to scarf, the bastard wouldn’t even notice. What did Simmons see in him, anyway?

I mean, alright, maybe he wasn’t a complete fatass by _civilian_ , Earth standards, but this was the fucking military! Everyone was pretty fit, overall, or, if anything, a little too slim like Simmons (And, he supposed, himself, but he didn’t really think of this as _his_ body all the time.).

Someone that was even _ten pounds_ over the **max** military weight standards, which was _already_ hitting fatass territory in Richard’s opinion (And, chubby chaser Simmons could just shove it.), was pretty much considered a fat fuck by their fellow soldiers. And, Grif had to be over that, _by now_. Richard could just tell! The fatass was only _barely_ 5’ 7” or 67 inches tall, after all, not 6’ even like (him) Simmons, and the max allowable weight for someone Grif’s height was _supposed_ to be 176 lbs. for fucks sake! Son of a bitch!

Richard had no patience for people that didn’t even _attempt_ to live up to their potential. Be it mentally _or_ physically.

And, that brought him to the nose. He had been totally serious about re-setting it! Sure, he’d have to _break_ it first, as it wasn’t a new injury, but he was pretty sure he could… I mean, no one would ever guess that  Simmons' nose had been fractured once, now would they? Because, Richard knew what he was doing, goddammit!

Well, screw Grif, anyway. Richard, and Simmons, had each other. They didn’t need anyone else. Look at what happened with Jimmy. Even Richard, himself, had thought… had felt… but, no. No... No... Had to forget... Had to... to... That _traitorous little-_ …

[“…Jimmy?,” Simmons murmured, sounding like he was awakening from a dream, “…What happened with Jimmy? How can you ever blame _him_ … ]

Holy _Shit_ … How had Simmons come back out… on his own,… _again_! And,  Eavesdropping, too. He was starting to be able to do this too damn often. It was becoming more and more frequent. Fuck! Richard had to really concentrate, anymore, to keep everything in line…

[“Are you…? Did you…? Richard… are you _hiding_ things from me, again? Jimmy… He-He was my friend… He was my  best friend… He was my… He… I swear, it wasn’t like… I never… I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”]  
“Jesus Christ, Kid. Fuckin’ stop it. **Nothing. Happened.** _Breathe. Breathe._ Breathe with me, dammit!... _You’re ok. You’re alright_ … Simmons? _Say the words._ ”  
“I…”  
“ _You’re okay_ ”, Richard coaxed, “ _You’re alright_.”  
“I… I’m okay. I’m… alright,” Simmons whispered the words that actually triggered calm, rather than harm, “I’m okay… I’m alright...”]

[“…Kid… Simmons... I… I-I’m sorry. Everything’s okay, alright? You’re just hanging out with your-… ,” Richard’s voice went from soothing to sounding like he was gritting his teeth in an instant, “…your _friend_. And, that’s, that’s alright. That’s okay.” Richard continued his practice of peppering in the calming words (‘Okay’, ‘Alright’), as he’d done for so many years,… since that first night…, “I want you to relax, okay, Kid? Just… ya know, eat some food, some snack stuff, or whatever. Hang out with your friend, alright? That’s okay… I didn’t mean…to be an asshole about it…uh, you know where I am if you need me, right?” He tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“Sorry…,” Simmons, who never apologized unless he meant it, mumbled.  
“Hey. Don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong… I’m… It’s this thing with this…ya know… And, just what in the hell is that Grif guy _up to_ , anyway, that he is so oblivious, right now?!”]

They turned to see Grif scavenging through his snack pile, munching on Oreos, (Apparently, he was a dessert first kinda guy. No surprise there.), and… setting aside peanut related snacks, presumably for Simmons…

They both felt the lump in their throat, though, for very different reasons.

[“He, uh, he can be sorta… nice… when he wants to be,” Simmons murmured, a little emotionally.  
“Uhhhh… I’m gonna frickin’ **hurl** ,” Richard moaned, and, then, he quickly cleared his throat, “Uh,…Love ya, Kid, but I’m, erm… tired.”  
“Okay. I’m alright.”  
“I know you are.”]  
  
Simmons looked at Grif, at the treat stash between them, and at the… picnic basket? Strange… that sat on the bed with them.

“G-Grif?,” Simmons hated that his voice cracked. He wished he sounded more confident like Richard.

The man in question looked up at him, and Simmons thought, again (Bad Thoughts, Not Normal, ‘Just two guys hanging out’ thoughts), how lucky Grif was to have those thick, long black eyelashes. (Why was he thinking this, right now? Or, _at all_?) Sure, Simmons might have long, thick lashes, too, but they weren’t _dark_ enough. (At least, they weren’t _blonde_ , though. He’d had a cousin like that.)

Grif’s eyebrows even seemed to have a _natural_ expressive arch. So freaking unfair. If **anyone** ever knew that Simmons plucked his to look the almost naturally arched way they did… well, he might have to fuckin’ shoot them.

And, it had to be said, even if only to himself, that Simmons had his secret suspicions about Grif’s dark blue eyes that didn’t quite fit his heritage… and the fact that, despite his constant beach bum surfer tan, his skin tone, and face, and even his name, still seemed a little too… caucasian? And, his hair while thick, and quick to grow long like a Native Hawaiian’s (Okay, so, maybe, Simmons had looked it up on his HUD! Oh, God, it was so goddamn humiliating!), was really straight, without that kinkiness (hair kinkiness, dammit!) that you expected to see…

But, Simmons kept these thoughts to himself, figuring it wasn’t really his business, he’d probably been too nosy, as it was (He couldn’t help it! He was naturally curious!), and Grif, who seemed proud but defensive of his heritage, would tell him when he was good and ready, if he wanted to...

“ ‘Sup, Dude?,” Grif’s voice broke through Simmons thoughts, and the redhead’s eyes focused in on the other man, who was grinning, a little wickedly at him, “You’re staring, again.”

“No, I’m not,” Simmons answered quickly, looking away.

“Hey… whatever helps you sleep at night,” Grif replied, sounding an awful lot like a certain someone Simmons knew, as he flashed that _evil_ , lazy Grif grin, again.

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I’m just… hungry,” Simmons shot back.  
  
But, he made the mistake of… accidently?... looking back up into Grif’s eyes as he said, “hungry”, and, oh boy, you’d think he said, “ _horny_ ”, with the way Grif’s pupils dilated, and his nostrils flared with a quick, deep intake of breath.

Simmons' own eyes widened, and he squeaked out, not breaking eye contact, reaching blindly toward where he thought the peanut candies were, “Are t-these for m-me?”

“No.”

Before Simmons could get all offended, and upgrade, or downgrade, depending on your opinion, from squeaky to squawky, Grif laid his hand over top his… and moved it a bit to the right, away from the Oreos Simmons had been veering toward, before releasing it, “ _Those_ are yours. The peanut, and peanut butter, stuff. Do you, uh, even like peanut stuff, or is it just, like, more peanut butter kinda stuff? I… don’t think I really know that… ”

Simmons was looking at his hand. He could… _almost_ still feel Grif’s touch. “Uh-huh… wait, what? I wasn’t listening…”

“Dude, What. Do. You. Like? Just peanut butter, or peanut stuff, too?,” Grif sounded a little exasperated, again. He hated repeating himself. It was a waste of his very limited energy.

“I’m into it all. It’s all good to me,” Simmons answered, innocently.

Grif smirked, annoyance instantly forgotten, “Oh, yeah? Me, too.”

Something in Grif’s tone… Simmons looked at him a little suspiciously, “What-?“

But, Grif just pushed the basket at him, “Check out what the Rookie brought us. You never really looked.”

Simmons opened the basket to see… Sandwiches? Where the hell had they gotten bread? Simmons looked questioningly at Grif.

“Yeah, man,” Grif nodded solemnly, at the unspoken question, “I think that son of a bitch has been _baking_ at Blue Base, again.”

Simmons gasped, “ _Dammit_! If Sarge finds out… How many times do we have to tell him?”

“Well, Simmons, I mean, his fuckin’ _boyfriend_ is over there, now…”

“Lo-Lopez is **not** his 'b-boyfriend'!," Simmons sputtered. "How could someone be with… like a robot-type person, anyway? That _doesn’t make any sense_ , Grif!”

“I dunno,” Grif shrugged, and, then, leaned back against the wall, shoving the pile of goodies over with his leg, and reclining back on his pillows. -He may have swiped a few extras from the empty bunks in this small, but still seriously undermanned, base. He was a pillow hog.- Oh, fuck. That was so much better. “You don’t gotta get all pissed about it, though, Simmons. What the fuck’s it got to do with you?”

“I… I just… I don’t want there to be any trouble on the team…And the baking… Protocol states… ,“ Simmons mumbled.

“Holy fuck, Simmons, don’t you _dare_ start with that shit! Look…,” Grif was full on bossy-britches, again. He pulled out a sandwich, and shoved it at the other man, “I ate a few when you were zoning off, or whatever...”

Oh… didn’t even notice that, Simmons thought, uncomfortably, I must’ve been pretty out of it… or, he must’ve inhaled them.

“They’re fine. Just eat a peanut butter ‘n jelly sandwich, and shut the fu-“

“WHAT! Gimme that!,“ the redhead shrieked, snatching the sandwich out of Grif’s hand.

“Well, fuck you very much, Mr. Grabby Hands. I thought you knew-“

“No talking. Eating.” Simmons tossed the wrapping at Grif, and it landed in his lap.

“Nice. Just throw trash at me. That’s fuckin’ cool, dude. Real nice... Asshole.”

“Oh my fucking _Goood_ ,” Simmons, actually, _moaned_ in-between bites, like a completely oblivious, shameless hussy, “It’s _sooo good_. You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had the real thing…”

“… Oh Christ…,” Grif almost groaned aloud himself, in pure frustration, thinking, ‘Me, too, man. Me, too.’ He suddenly felt the need to put a pillow over his lap for, uh, some reason. Simmons sounded like he couldn’t decide if he was gonna cry or cream himself. Which was very _Simmons_. He was such an emotional basketcase, sometimes. Especially, when he thought he was alone, or it was only them... Grif could bet _anything_ he’d be a screamer… Oh, fuck!, he thought, It’s a good thing no one can read my freakin’ mind.

As Grif watched Simmons, who had moved on to picking through his little pile of snacks, he dealt with his oral fixation by eating some more Oreos, and, oh wait, what was that? Hostess cupcakes. Freaking _Yum_. Better than the HoHos. *Gulp*

When Grif pulled out a water bottle, Simmons, still shifting through his rapidly diminishing stash, and munching like a little hamster, reached out his hand for it.

“Thirsty,” the redhead demanded.

Grif snorted. Seriously, what a little asshole. It wasn’t like Grif _wasn’t_ going to give him one, anyway, but, geez, Simmons sure could turn on spoilt bitch mode, pretty easily.

“ **You’re welcome** , _kissass_ ,” Grif replied snarkily, just to remind him who was boss in _this_ Zone, as he opened, then, handed the bottle to him, before getting himself another.

His tone seemed to snap Simmons out of his tranquil, go-with-the-flow state of mind. The redhead swallowed, and asked, the confusion, and freaking _shyness_ very evident in his voice, “Wait… why _are_ you being so nice to me?”

Uh-oh. Busted.

Grif’s mind did that racy, 'Oh, shit, gotta get outta trouble' thing, and he lied, very smoothly, he thought, “Ah, ya know, I don’t really like peanut butter, or stuff with peanuts, that much.”

Simmons wrinkled his nose at him. “I don’t believe that for a second. As a matter a fact, I know that’s not true. This is you we’re talking about here. Even if that _were_ factually accurate… Don’t groan at me!... Hmph! As _I was saying_ , even if that was _true_ , most of these are chocolate, and I think you’d put _anything_ in your mouth, if it was all covered in chocolate…”

Uhhh. This mother fucking _tease_. And, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, or saying, half, hell,  all the time… Fuck it.

Grif sat up, leaned toward him, and said in his most blasé tone, “Two things. One: Donut, is that you? Cause I _know_ Simmons didn’t just say that to me. And, Two:… That a _dare_ , man?... Cause if it is…”

“…Um… Uh…No!... I didn’t mean…,” Simmons blushed, flustered beyond belief, “See _this_ is why I shouldn’t have too much sugar! I don’t even know what I’m **saying** , anymore!”

Grif cocked his head at him, “Just _sugar_ gets you like this?”

Simmons seemed a little self-conscious. “I… didn’t have a lot as a kid. It was… ya know… gluttonous… sinful…”

Grif scoffed, “Yeah, sinfully _delicious_. Man, if you’re loopy, and talking like _the Rookie_ , on a couple a’ candies and snack cakes, I’d kill to see you… _Wait_ …”

“What?... Wait, what?... Grif, why the look?... Grif? What’s with the **look**?!... What the hell are you up to?” Simmons sounded ready to bolt.

But, Grif had clambered off of the bunk, after giving Simmons the most appraising, thoughtful look, and was, now, searching _underneath_ it. He had, actually, shoved at Simmons' long legs to move them out of his way, and, even, gave the kissass a light pinch when he didn’t move fast enough.

“Hey!,” the redhead complained, loudly, “No pinching!”

“Shut up,” Grif told the whiny other man. Jesus, he’d barely touched him. And, this coming from Mr. Bitington over there. Anything to bitch, though. Right, Simmons?

“Grif!,” Simmons squawked, offended, “I don’t wanna see your smut mags, again!”

Grif had to snigger at that.

“Ha! You _wish_. No, dude…Ah-ha!,” Grin grinned, as he got ahold of something under the bed.

Simmons groaned,” I don’t think I **wanna** know what’s going on, right now.”

“ ‘K. Close your eyes, and hold out your hand.”

Simmons looked at him like he’d lost his fucking _mind_ , “N-no. Absolutely not. Uh-uh.”

Grif sighed at him. “Buddy, I think you got your wires crossed. You freak out when someone says, “ _Close your eyes & open your mouth_, not…”

“Fuuuck, sooo crude!,” Simmons bitched.

“Yeah, yeah, and you’re a prude. Whatcha gonna do?” Grif waved it languidly away, “Gonna close your eyes, or what? Cause I don’t really _care_ , I just know how you care about girlie shit like ‘presentation’.”

_That_ set Simmons off onto the most bitchy, ranty, **boring** speech about “presentation”, and how it could really be “what matters most”… And, Grif watched the nerd with one eyebrow raised, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You done?,” he cut in, although it was pretty obvious he hadn’t been, “Because, all I heard was, “Blah, blah, nerd stuff, _I don’t trust you_ , blah.”

[Richard suddenly, and shockingly, _screamed_ in Simmons' head, “ _We don’t trust that tubby fuck!_”]

Simmons winced. What the hell?! And, Richard accused _Simmons_ of being an eavesdropper? But, then, he’d probably let himself get too anxious, again…

Without thinking, Simmons answered Richard aloud, “No, **you** don’t tru-…”

Grif cut him off, again, “Whatever. Let’s just skip this wacky shit, and get to the fun stuff.”

“Wha-?”

And, with a flourish, Grif pulled a carton carrier with six glass bottles settled within its slots out from underneath his bunk, and he stood to proudly present it to the kissass.

Richard was silent. Watchful.

Simmons looked from the bottles, to Grif, to the bottles, and back to him, again... Finally, he muttered, “Oh, just say it, you asshole.”

“… **Ta-Da**!,” Grif called out, triumphantly.

Simmons sighed. “You. Are. _Such._ An. Idiot.”

Grif just shook his head long-sufferingly at him. “Hey, it wasn’t _easy_ to get this, man. There isn’t exactly a liquor store on the corner, ya know?”

“Sooo…it’s… what? Alcohol? Like Beer or something?,” Simmons asked.

[“Ah, Kid. Come on!," Richard lamented, "That’s just fuckin' embarrassing!”]

“Nah,” Grif told him seriously, “It’s Root Beer, dude.”

Simmons nodded agreeably. “Oh, Oka-“

[Richard saw Red. “I will **KILL** this fatass mother fu--“]

“Of course, it’s _Beer_! Simmons, keep up! _Jeez_ ,” Grif informed him very, uh, 'politely', as he rolled his eyes in disbelief.

[“Oh, thank god,” Richard heaved a huge internal sigh of relief, “I thought he was gonna lie…”]

Simmons ignored him, and answered Grif, “Oh, uh… Sorry…”

[“…?!” _Sorry._ Just giving out “Sorry’s” to any-fuckin’-body, now, huh? That’s some bullshit, Richard thought, irritably, to himself.]

“So,” the redhead continued, “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

“It’s more like what’d I _have ta’ **do** for it_ ,” Grif said, quite dramatically for him.

And, Simmons turned a bit green.

“Dude, I’m _joking_ ,” Grif assured the kissass, “… Well, kinda. I stole it from Blue Base… Remember that time Sarge sent me to go get the flag while you guys were attacking the rear?… I didn’t mean that like… Oh, whatever. _Anyway_ , I figured this…,” he wiggled the carton, “was more important. And, dude! You wouldn’t _believe_ the weird crap they got over there. But, I had to hoof it back, cause their giant Rookie spotted me, and kept yelling that he wanted to hang out, and play ‘You’re It’, or something, and it was ‘my turn’ this time.” Grif shuddered, "Shit was scary, man.”

“Hmmm…,” Simmons just hummed in response.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t some uptight teetotaler, are you?,” Grif sounded surprised, like, even with everything else, that hadn’t even _occurred_ to him, for some reason, “I thought you were supposed to be “Irish”, or some crap?... But, what am I saying? This is _you_. **Of course** , you’re an uptight... I guess I just gotta train you,” he teased.

“No, it’s not… I… I hate the smell… alcohol… b-bourbon…,” the redhead’s voice cracked, and he closed his eyes.

[“Ah, Simmons... Kid... dammit... ” Richard felt terrible about that. And, he couldn’t _do_ anything about it. It was, overall, just too damn deeply ingrained in long-term memory. Starting, even, before his time together with Simmons.]

“Hey, hey, that’s cool. No big deal…,” Grif found himself murmuring, tone instantly placid.

Grif could _feel_ it overtaking him. This horrible desire to:  Fix It, Take Care, Protect. _Shiittt._ It was like the worst superpower _ever_.

_”Witness my amazing hidden ability to give a fuck about broken people!_ Watch as I throw away endless, precious _minutes_ and _minutes_ of naptimes to check-in on hopeless neurotics! And, _Marvel_ at my ginormous strength,  & puma-like stealth as I secretly carry this whole f ‘n team!”…*Sigh* _Whatever._

He blamed his bitch mother. She left. (So any times. But, for good, eventually.) He had to secretly raise a kid sister -with _problems_ \- on his own. And, then, the Draft… That was bound to fuck up anyone.

Grif realized he was hovering over him, _about to put his hand on top of Simmons' bowed head._ Just touch that shiny red hair. Tell him to chill out, everything was cool. He just needed to **relax** for more than two minutes at a time, for fuck’s sake… Grif snatched his hand back. What the hell was  wrong with him? He had it _bad_ for this frickin’ nerd, for some reason, and the guy was a wreck.

“Listen, man,” Grif heard himself say, because apparently his big mouth had to say something, even when his brain was telling it to shut the fuck up. At least, he sounded relaxed, though. “This is beer, it’s not hard liquor. I dunno. That makes a difference to some people. And, hey, it’s not like you gotta drink any, anyway. More for me, right?”

Grif knelt down to stash the beer back under the bunk next to, yes, his beloved smut mags. He didn’t care how “old school” (Like really, really old school.) it was, some things just never went outta style, and some things, you just needed hard copies of… But, how had Simmons known?… Had he been snooping through his shit?...Hmmm… Nah. Probably, knowing the kissass, he’d been dataloguing _all_ their stuff at the base, again. *Snort* Nerd-

Simmons’ leg nudged his shoulder, causing Grif to glance up at him.

“Just… can I smell it first…?,” Simmons asked, white teeth biting at his bottom lip.

“Smell…” Grif had to, almost physically, it felt like, hold himself back. His natural snarky side was _desperate_ to fuck with him (Never knew you were such a kinky bastard, Simmons!... Goddammit, he was so fucking immature.), while his other side, his stupid, dumbass Mama Bird side, that he’d like to shoot with a BB gun, and bury in the backyard so nobody ever knew about it, would **ne-ver**.

Especially, as it was damn obvious there was some fucked up shit behind all this.

“… To see if it’s… actually… different?,” Simmons was going on, “I wanna know… I should know, right?”

“Dude… Simmons… I have no idea… It’s not a big deal, man,” Grif sounded about as unsure as he felt. He wasn’t a head doctor. How the fuck would he know what was the "right" thing? The most helpful, or... whatever, thing?

[“Simmons, what are you doing?,” Richard tried to sound calm, “You should just go to our room, and sleep, alright?”  
“ _No_ ,” Simmons refused, stubbornly, “You sleep.”]

“Are you gonna flip out?,” Grif asked, suspiciously, as he pulled the carton back out from under the bed, and stood.

The redhead's already too big eyes widened, anxiously. “…I-I’m not sure,” he answered honestly.

Grif sat back down, right beside Simmons. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. His warmth seeping into the slender man at his side.  
  
Turning slightly to face him, Grif shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against him, “… Alright... fair enough… ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donut: My beloved DoDo bird joined the party!… Well, sorta.  
> And, I had to fight my inner child like a freaking _dog_ to not do the whole old ass Macaulay Culkin _Home Alone_ Christmas movie scene, when Donut was at the door:  
>  “And keep the change, you filthy animal.”… *Machine Gun fire through closed door at Delivery Dude*.  
> I _never_ would. It wouldn’t have made any sense, and I wouldn’t do that to beloved Donut, but, man, I was flashing back on that part so hard!
> 
> Regarding Lopez: In canon, he originally saw Red Team as his “people”, and Sarge as his ("Padre") father, before they accidently mistook him for a Blue, and attempted to attack him. Even the Ultimate Fan Guide says, regarding him: “There is perhaps no greater victim of the war than Lopez .”  
> But, you do see in canon that he is very much a part of the team again, eventually.  
> Every tagged character, and character relationship, has a very important part to play in the story at some time or another. And, Lopez and Donut are absolutely no exception.  
>   
> Next Chapter will be up this week, and won’t take as long as this one to get out, as some of it is already typed out.  
>   
> <3 to you all! –MissyAnn


	4. Spend the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t **make me** pick you up, and toss you half a foot across the goddamn bed,” Grif threatened.  
>   
>  That got Simmons attention. He narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn’t dare.”  
>   
> Grif narrowed his eyes right back at the kissass, and then… there was that devilish Grif grin, again, “Oh, wouldn’t I ?”  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Homophobic Slurs, Alcohol Use, Referenced/Mentioned prior drug use  
>   
> Some Hawaiian will be used through-out this fic. These are not always commonly known words, so I will always have a translation in the notes.  
>   
>  **Hawiaiian to English Translation For Chapter 4** : Pokalolo: marijuana / E kipa mai: Come to me / Ka nani: The pretty one  
>   
> 

Timeline: Blood Gulch -Approx. 1 week Before the Tank Incident- Night 

_“Are you gonna flip out?,” Grif asked, suspiciously, as he pulled the carton back out from under the bed, and stood._

_The redhead's already too big eyes widened, anxiously. “…I-I’m not sure,” he answered honestly._  
  
_Grif sat back down, right beside Simmons. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. His warmth seeping into the slender other man._

_Turning slightly to face him, Grif shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against him, “… Alright... fair enough… ”_  
  
  
Grif just sat next to him for a long minute, as the other man leaned into him. As some of the tension slowly eased out of Simmons’ body, Grif couldn’t help but wonder just what in the fuck could make someone _this_ wacked out. Nothing was easy with him. The dude _had_ to chill. It was too bad he didn’t have any pokalolo, the Hawaiian thought a little nostalgically. Maybe if they ever got some leave... Not that Grif’d ever been a big smoker of the stuff what with having to keep an eye on a freaking wild child like Kai. He’d had to keep his wits about him to _some_ degree.  
  
Man, what he was really thinking about at that moment, though? Was how he wanted to take that damn skintight crap off. Get into some comfortable civvies. But, he wasn’t sure how to do it without Simmons getting all weird… And, seriously, how could the nerd _actually_ relax, either, if he was still wearing the under armor protective suit. It was alright. More comfortable then you’d think, but not really meant for…  
  
Anyway, maybe later. Simmons was still a little too uptight. And, if Grif suggested they change right now, he could totally see Simmons going to his room, and then pussin’ out, and not coming back. And, Grif had put too much _energy_ , no joke, his seriously limited energy into this for **that** shit.  
  
One good thing about Simmons freak out that day was that Grif had got to catnap all day in-between keeping an eye on him without getting’ bitched out for once. That was pretty much how it always worked when Simmons had a bad day, though. Grif wasn’t sure what had been different this time… what had led to him calling him over, instead of just snoozin’ a little more, and then checking in on him again in a little while…  
  
Well, whatever the hell the reason, there they were, and with how much Simmons had rested his weight against, and into, him when Grif had sat right beside him, pressed against him… well, shit, Grif was pretty sure the kissass would have already climbed into his _lap_ , by that point, if he didn’t always have to over-fucking-think every damn thing…  
  
Speaking of laps… Simmons distracted Grif from his thoughts by reaching into his lap where Grif had set the carton of booze, and tentatively wrapping long, slender fingers around the neck of a bottle…  
  
“Oh, no, no, no,” Grif stopped him, as he unwrapped his fingers, one by one.  
  
Simmons hand twitched under his, and Grif swallowed, and thought, Fuck, this dude has _got_ to stop being so antsy about every damn thing. It was giving him ideas.  
  
Now, _Grif_ was the one clearing his throat. Freaking ridiculous. “Let me open it, dude. You’ll probably break a nail.”  
  
“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?!,” Simmons rapid fired the question out, instantly tense again.  
  
“It _means_ …,” Grif joked lazily, being a typical insensitive prick, as per usual, “You need a man’s hand to open a man’s beer.”  
  
Simmons **screeched** , “Fuck you! I _am_ a man!”  
  
Grif clucked his tongue a little playfully, “I dunno, Simmons… When you gotta _yell_ it like that…”  
  
Add oblivious to the mood of the room to that.  
  
[“What did I tell you about him!,” Richard snarled angrily in Simmons mind, “He’s like all the rest! You _can’t_ let your guard down. Give it a little time, and he’ll be calling you a fruity faggot boy! Now, let’s fucking GO!”]  
  
Simmons shifted. Fury radiating off of him, and Grif, though slow on the uptake due to not always being the most sensitive of people, realized that he had pushed him too far… _again_. He, honestly, couldn’t seem to help himself with this guy. It was like a compulsion.  
  
Before Simmons could get up, Grif touched the back of his hand,  
  
[Richard immediately attempted to separate himself. It wasn’t always as easy as people thought…]  
  
…pressed down lightly…  
  
[Another man (boy) touching their bare skin… even if just on the hand…]  
  
…a slight squeeze…  
  
[Terrified of what this could bring up. Bring **back**. Because this was- _Wrong, Wrong. Not allowed. NOT ALLOWED._ Richard expected the *ssssnnnaap* Excruciating **pain** , every nerve ending on fire… instead… he saw Jimmy… A memory of Jimmy’s first betrayal… that, in a sense, led to it all… and maybe,... for Richard, anyway?... that hurt even more…]  
  
“Alright, alright, _chill out_ , dammit. I’ll show you, okay?,” Grif soothed/complained, “Christ, Simmons, just calm the fuck down. I was just messin’ with you, man.”  
  
Simmons was still trembling with the aftershocks of his surge of outrage (And, unbeknownst to him, the slight bleeding through of Richard’s memories), but, at least, Richard had quieted down. Simmons didn’t know why. As soon as Grif had touched him, Richard had went strangely silent and still. Like he’d locked himself away, although Simmons had still felt him there. Not anymore, though. He’d hid away, again.  
  
The redhead’s thoughts turned, then, to Grif… teasing him like he was a fuckin’ girl… and he licked his dry lips, unwittingly drawing Grif’s attention.  
  
Simmons asked in a hushed tone, “It’s the hair, right?”  
  
Grif didn’t answer. Just watched his lips move…  
  
“It’s too long, right?… Like s-sissy, f-faggot hair?,” Simmons voice cracked, and Grif finally looked up into his eyes. Startled. Simmons’ big, green eyes looked suspiciously damp.  
  
Grif went to make a gesture toward his own longish dark hair, and he realized… that his hand was still lying comfortably on top of Simmons’. Grif had… forgotten. Lost track, somehow. And, by the surprised look on Simmons face when he followed his gaze, he had as well. It had just felt so natural, so _normal_ for them. Like they’d done it a hundred times before… but, now, the feeling was passing, and Grif removed his hand. He forced himself to be chill, be cool about it… when what he really wanted to do was run his fingers up pale, creamy skin, grab that “sissy” ponytail (Gimmee a break with that shit. I mean, what the fuck?), and pull him down…  
  
Oh Christ, he must have been losin’ it. He was so glad that the carton was in his lap, even if it had suddenly gotten strangely uncomfortable. Shit! The pillow. A beer carton. He wondered if he was going to spend the rest of the night hiding an inappropriately timed boner. He was… He just needed to… Uhhh!!! _Fuck this confusing asshole!_... Umm… Nope. That was pretty much exactly what he’d meant.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Grif saw Simmons… running a hand furtively over his shiny red hair, and down the tail. Like he was trying to take advantage of Grif spacing out to  measure it. As if he was unsure of its length. Was he worried it had gotten too long?  
  
Grif wanted to ask him, to drawl out sarcastically, “How long until it reaches **official** ‘sissy, faggot’ length, Simmons?” But, he didn’t. Somehow, his mouth didn’t run away from him that time. And, anyway, he knew those hadn’t really been _Simmons_ words. He’d looked too sick when he said them.  
  
“Dude? Simmons? Look, here,” Grif drew his attention back to him, and away from his own thoughts, by placing a bottle back into his hand, “Normally, people - _pussy people_ -,” He tried to lighten the mood by being an insensitive prick, again, because sometimes he was kind of an idiot, “use a bottle opener for this kind of bottle, but you don’t gotta if you… here let me show…”  
  
Simmons nodded, but when Grif caught hold of the other man’s left arm, firmly settled his hand back overtop Simmons, and, then, went to lean over him… The redhead practically _swooned_. Trembling slightly, and listing toward him… It freaked Grif OUT. Despite the virgin cracks, -uh, jokes! Jokes!-, it really _was_ like Simmons had never been touched. Even just like  this. And, considering Grif’s history with hooking up with people, this… this was, uh… very different.  
  
He went to back off. Seriously, wasn’t Simmons all _traumatized_ or something, by something in his past, and he wanted to “ _smell_ ” the beer before he decided if he wanted to drink it, and, holy shit, what the fuck was happening…  
  
Before Grif could more than think these thoughts, Simmons was catching his hand, and murmuring in a voice too low, too _submissive_ to seem like it wasn’t outta a damn kinky dream, “Show me?”  
  
Ohhh fuuuuck. It was Basic all over, again. This pretty boy son of a bitch was on _his bed_ (Well, he guessed he’d been on Simmons’ bunk that time.), being all frickin’ oblivious n’ shit! One minute he could be a total asshole, and the next… Oh man, Grif needed to put something sweet in his mouth right at that very moment, or he was going to jump the kissass. And, let’s just say Donut hadn’t exactly been _wrong_ … about him… and his mouth… (And, _no_ , the Rookie **did not** know from personal experience, goddammit. He was just so damn nosy, he inevitably found out shit that was none of his business... )... It was practically a medical condition!  
  
“Erm… I’m starving,” Grif muttered.  
  
Simmons had been looking down at their joined hands, but Grif’s words caused him to look up, and scowl, all submissive attitude noticeably gone with the wind, “Are you fucking _kidding_ me? After the food Donut brought us, and all those sweets? Wait… You know what? Why am I even surprised?”  
  
“I don’t know, Simmons. Why are you?,” Grif asked in mock-seriousness, “You’d think you didn’t know me, or something…”  
  
Fuck. Grif didn’t know why he kept _saying_ shit like that. Why the hell was it suddenly so important that this kissass **know** him? Even his supposed _bad_ traits? Hey, he couldn’t help it if he had an oral fixation _and_ was an emotional eater, _and_ he hadn’t gotten laid since before he got Drafted, for fuck’s sake!  
  
He gave the hell up, and pulled Simmons arm, and the beer, over to the edge of the “bunk”side drawer, and hooked the lip of the bottle cap on its edge, “Now, you can do this easy cause it’s metal. But, dude, seriously, don’t do it on anything wood. You’ll fuck it up, and get yelled at.”  
  
When Simmons just looked questioningly at him, Grif leaned more across him, and sighed, “Come on, man. Do I gotta teach you _everything_. You gotta smack it with the flat of your hand…”  
  
Simmons sniffed derisively (Where was Richard? This was weird. Maybe, he really _didn’t_ like Grif…), “Shut up, dumbass. You couldn’t teach me anything if you tried.” But, Simmons followed Grif’s directions, anyway, and low and behold…  
  
“I did it!,” Simmons flashed such a self-gratified grin that Grif chuckled. God, he was such a fucking (cute ass) nerd. He really must have been on a sugar high. **If** that was a _real_ thing. Grif had his doubts.  
  
But, the Hawaiian found himself squeezing the redhead’s arm a little, and he said teasingly, “Good job, kissass. I’m so _proud_ of you.”  
  
“Y-You are?” Those big green eyes pinned him in place.  
  
Uh-oh. How could Grif have forgotten about this. He patted the pretty boy, a little awkwardly, “Sure, buddy. Why not?... So… Are you gonna just keep… staring at me, or?”  
  
“Oh! Uh, I WAS NOT! I… wh-what are we doing again?”  
  
“You wanted to “smell” the beer, or something?… Hey, don’t give me that face! I’m fuckin’ _not_ making fun of you… this time. But, next time goes double,” Grif promised, “Ya know, to make up for me havin’ to be all sensitive an’ shit.”  
  
Simmons snorted in exasperation, “You are _such_ an asshole.”  
  
“Ya, ya, get ta’ sniffin’. I’m telling you, man, it does  not smell the same. But, don’t take my word for it.”  
  
“I _won’t_.” Simmons huffed. And, he raised the bottle up to his face, closed his eyes, breathed in through his pert little nose …  
  
Silence.  
  
Oh, Grif hated too much silence. It made him nervous. Grif realized he was still holding, clutching now, the kissass’ arm, and decided, ‘Fuck it’, he’d just keep ahold of him.  
  
Right when Grif was about to open his mouth, and spew out God knows what nonsense, Simmons' eyes opened, and he cocked his pretty little redhead slightly, “It _is_ different. No sensory memory connected to it. Hmm… Although, it IS an alcoholic beverage… Hmph. That’s an interesting anomaly…  
  
“Ahh fuuu-, Simmons, dude, don’t, don’t do that. The _nerd stuff_. It’s melting my fucking  braaain…,” Grif finally let go of him, but he knocked his shoulder playfully against the redhead’s so he didn’t decide to get all pissy, “…So… how have you not smelled _beer_ before? That’s sorta fuckin’… strange, man.”  
  
“My family was more… a hard liq- no, no, lemme open yours,” Simmons, grateful to focus on something else, snatched Grif’s beer before he could open it on his own, *Smaack* “… Ha! I did it, again, sucker!... Still… proud of me?”  
  
“Yes, Simmons,” Grif said, completely deadpan, as he took his beer back from the much too pleased with himself other man, “I’m very, very proud of you.”  
  
Red Team blush made another appearance, and Simmons decided, like a very intelligent human being, to take his first too big gulp of beer while he was all flustered an’ shit. So, of course, he coughed, and choked, snarfed foam up his nose, and, generally, made a fool of himself.  
  
“Simmons, Simmons,” Grif shook his head sadly at him, “You goddamn noob. What am I gonna do with you? You’re not supposed to drink it through your _nose_."  
  
“Sh- _*Snar-aAaAaAaacchoo!*_ …ut up, asshole!,” Simmons sneezed/bitched.  
  


o0o0o0o0o

Simmons was wandering around the room. He was halfway through his second, and **last** , beer, because, frankly, the kissass had started getting… mellow after only _one_ , and Grif had cut him off at the two. Grif had just started the last one of the batch, which was his fourth.

The redhead had gotten up, and started his drifting about the room. Mumbling about how he was surprised it was actually fairly clean…

Grif raised his dark eyebrows at him, “Really, Simmons? It’s clean, because _you_ clean it for me. You said you couldn’t stand the idea of someone, even a ‘lazy asshole’ like me, living in a toxic waste dump.”

“I _know_ that!,” Simmons glared at him, “I meant that you haven’t… I mean, since I cleaned it last… you haven’t trashed it that bad. That’s all.”

“You mean since you cleaned it this morning?,” Grif asked, innocently enough, he thought.

“Yes, you dumbass!,” Simmons yelled, throwing his arms up, and almost sloshing his beer all over the floor.

Simmons really didn’t **want** to be an asshole, right then. It wasn’t actually warranted, for once. But he was, _somehow_ , buzzed on one and a half beers (Maybe, due to having been a booze neophyte.), and… he was worrying about Richard.  
  
He _knew_ Richard didn’t seem to like certain kinds of things, anymore. Especially of the… relationships with other people variety. And, overall, he didn’t want to be around for anything to do with them. So, it wasn’t _weird_ or _strange_ for him to not be there, right now. At all. So Simmons didn’t understand  why he felt… disquieted, concerned…fucking WORRIED about him.

Grif watched Simmons as he paced. The kissass was obviously worried about stuff. It’d been a shit day for him, and, now, he wasn’t relaxing, at all, like he was _supposed_ to. The Hawaiian found himself calling softly out to him. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t speak to him in English.

“ _E kipa mai_ ,” Grif called in a low tone. Simmons turned, as he’d been facing away from him, and Grif repeated it. “ _E kipa mai_.” He beckoned the redhead over to him with a barely noticeable motion of his hand. Simmons didn’t know what he’d said, but… he went to him. There was a part of him that argued that he shouldn’t be so fucking… quick to follow Grif’s ‘orders’ -Because, sometimes? That’s what they felt like- when they were alone. But, it had been a hard day, and Simmons wasn’t in the mood for games.

He, _literally_ , thought that what he really wanted to do, at that moment, was… go sit in Grif’s lap. (And, maybe, he _was_ getting a bit drunk to be admitting this stuff. Even, to himself.) Not in a… _you know_ , kind of way. Not right now, anyway. (Oh no, was he _blushing_?) But, for comfort. He wasn’t sure why he **knew** that if he really needed it, Grif would offer him that. He just did…

And, sure enough, when he got close enough, Grif muttered, in English this time, “Come here", as he snagged the redhead’s arm, pulled him over to sit back down next to him (So much up and down, up and down…), and with his strong, thick arm wrapped securely around Simmons’ slim waist, Grif asked, “So, what’s up? What are you all messed up about? Just tell me, man.”

Simmons thought of Richard. That voice that had started out as his friend. That had helped him so many times… Had become like a brother to him. The only family he really had left. And, then, had started to make unbelievable, terrifying, life-threatening life choices for him…

Shockingly, Simmons was just intoxicated enough to whisper to Grif, “I…I have a secret…”

“Oh, yeah? You gonna tell me what it is?,” Grif asked, trying to sound chill. He was _sure_ this son of bitch was talking about being in the closet.

“There’s this… side of me… that I have to… hi-hide… ,” Simmons spoke so, so quietly, like he was trying to not be overheard…, “It’s really s-scary… sometimes…” His voice cracked.  
  
“Hey, man, it’s cool, I get it.” Grif almost sounded calm. Laid-back. Almost. “You don’t… uh…” Fuck. He _was_ trying. “You don’t gotta hide it… from me. I mean, I don’t care. I don’t judge. I mean, I DO, but not for **that** …  
  
“…O-Okay…I’ll… I’ll try to remember that…,” Simmons murmured, and he’d _actually_ rested his head down on Grif’s shoulder. Closed his eyes. After a long moment of this, Grif couldn’t help himself, and he’d ran his hand up from around Simmons’ waist to trailing up his back, his spine, into that bright red hair, -Simmons had shivered deliciously-… and Grif had started to loosen and pull the hair tie out…  
  
The redhead had popped up from off Grif’s shoulder, and turned toward him, startled. Simmons was so goddamn insecure about his sexy hair being like “sissy” hair. With how he seemed to feel about it, God knew why he had it long, at all.  
  
Grif froze. His hand partway in that hair that drove him fucking insane. He wanted to _burn_ all of Simmons' stupid hair ties.  
  
Grif felt like a goddamn _creep_ , and he thought quickly. Fuck, he was really having to do that a lot with Simmons on that particular night. Good thing he'd got to sleep practically all day. “Uhh…You gotta… let your hair down at a…uh, a sleepover? R-Right?,” Grif stuttered a little, sounding almost like _Simmons_ , for Christ’s sake.  
  
“Is that what… are we having a sleepover?,” Simmons asked, a little… hopefully? The word (‘sleepover’) reverberating in a strange way though his head. He _almost_ thought he felt Richard… very fleetingly. Was he… sad? He was… He was gone, again.  
  
“Erm…um… sure?... If you… want to?,” Grif agreed, questioningly. His room _did_ have an extra bunk, if that’s what was actually going on… All theirs did, but since they were such a small squad they had their own rooms.  
  
“Oh… okay,” Simmons said, much to agreeably for him, and Grif thought, ‘What the what?’, and then Simmons was _helping_ him pull his hair tie out, and kinda… shaking his deep red hair out… Ah, Jesus F’n Christ. It had that little crease across it from being tied down too tight all day, but Grif couldn’t give two shits about that. If he _ever_ got to sleep with this pretty boy, kissass, nerd, sexy son of a bitch he hoped he was cool with him wrapping that shiny red hair around his fist while he… Oh fuck… waaaiit a second…  
  
And, Grif came so, _so close_ to asking Simmons, ‘Wai-wai-wai-wait. Let’s back up. Is this like some, ‘Getting To Know You’ sleepover? Or is it a, ‘We Stay Up,  & I Fuck You All Night’ sleepover? Because, uh, if it’s the second one I gotta go see a guy (Donut) about a thing (Lube. Lots of lube for your sweet little virgin ass.).’ Like, he literally thought out the whole thing, and then sorta chickened out. Because, come on, Simmons was a little out of it, a little buzzed, and that would just be fucked up.  
  
And, well… son of a _bitch_ , he was SO not gonna sleep with the kissass, a repressed, closeted neurotic like _Simmons_ , when the guy was sorta goddamn, almost _drunk_ , for God’s sake! -Oh Christ, but he wanted to… so fucking bad- … and, anyway, Grif was, kinda, not used to drinking anymore himself… And, being honest?... He sorta, uh, sucked in bed when he’d had a little bit too much booze (Fuck, even **he** was a lightweight, now)… But, he’d just pretend that _that_ had nothing to do with it, at all, and he was just being all, like, a “gentleman”, or some shit.  
  
Seriously, though, first times were awkward enough. He was  not going to let Simmons first time suck. He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t THAT big of an asshole. Grif didn’t know why he just took it as a given that they would be together like that at some point. But, he was buzzed enough himself, to admit that it just kinda felt like something that had been coming for a long time. And, whatever, the frickin’ deal? Simmons was mother fucking _his_.  
  
… And, he didn’t really know where the hell that’d come from.  
  
Simmons sat the hair tie on the bunkside drawer, and stretched out his long, lean back. There was a tiny pop, and he frowned a little.  
  
Aha! Grif grinned to himself. The time had come.  
  
“This shit’s not comfortable, huh?,” he asked Simmons, all ‘compassionate’-like, “Wanna change into some civvies?”  
  
He was a bad bad man. But he kinda didn’t give a fuck. When was the last time him and the kissass had hung out late into the night in civvies? Just them two? Was it all the way back in _Basic_ when that shit went down? Fuckin’ nuts.  
  
And, anyway, maybe he was feelin’ a little mellow, or some shit, but he wanted to finally see him in that fuckin’ shirt…  
  
Simmons narrowed his eyes, and _looked around the room_ , like his clothes were going to magically appear.  
  
He turned back to Grif, and said guilelessly, “Nope. Don’t got none.”  
  
Pfft. The son of a bitch was a little schnockered.  
  
Grif, once again, thinking fast, suddenly remembered something so goddamn sickeningly “cute”, and ridiculous, that _maybe_ if he tricked Simmons into thinking he’d talked him into wearing it, made some kinda deal, he could finally get Simmons to wear that one shirt… It was such a frickin’ stupid, needlessly complicated plan, it just might work. Mostly, cause Simmons wasn’t on his A game, but Grif would take what he could get.  
  
“Weelll,” Grif purposely sounded a little unsure, “I  do have these two shirts that my sister, Kai, sent me when I got stationed here…” She had actually sent them while he was in Basic, buuut Simmons still didn’t quite know all the ins and outs of how all that had worked for him. And the Draft. And _how_ he ended up getting Drafted in the first place… Yeah, maybe he’d tell him about all that, like, if they ever got married, and had a _kid_ one day, or something. *Snort* Yeah, right. “…but I never wore either of them, cause, uhh…” Oh, it was working. Simmons was so fuckin’ easy to figure out.  
  
Simmons was getting excitable. Like the nerd, sometimes, did. Euuughh… Something that made  someone else, _Grif_ , in particular, all uncomfortable and embarrassed? Fucking kissass nerd **ambrosia**. He gripped Grif’s arm in a too tight grasp, “What? What?”  
  
“Uh, one’s just not my style, and the other… oh, fuck, man. It’s just _embarrassing_. _Precious_ , even. Totally something a chick would pick out… But, whatever. You probably don’t even give a shit. Don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you…,” Grif trailed off, and counted in his mind. One. Two. Thr-  
  
“Grif, show me right. now.,” Simmons demanded, “Go. Go, get them, dumbass! Where are they?”  
  
“Ahhh, I dunno… Booze makes you even _bossier_ , man…”  
  
After, a minute or two, not so long that the somehow booze-addled on practically nothing Simmons could lose interest, though, Grif pretended to be talked, or bossed into it. Let the kissass think he was top dog…  
  
Grif went to his foot locker, and pulled out two t-shirts. Still wrapped up from when they had been sent. He only showed Simmons the one, at first.  
  
“What the hell,” Simmons exclaimed, without thinking, “That’s fuckin’ cute as shit.”  
  
Ha! Simmons said ‘cute’. _Nerd_.  
  
But, it kinda was. It was a roomy, 2XL black t-shirt with a frickin’ _adorable_ red panda embossed on the front. It looked like it was clinging to the wearer of the t-shirt’s belly, and looking over its shoulder. Its striped tail curved around to the back of the t-shirt, and its eyes were a molten golden orange.  
  
After a beat of simply staring at it, Simmons nodded his head decisively, “You  have to wear it. Like Right. Fuckin’. Now.”  
  
“Nah,” Grif squinted his eyes at it in apparent disgust, “It’s too lame, dude.”  
  
“Griiiifff,” Whiny Simmons had come out to play, “Come ooonnn. You can NOT show me something like _that_ , and… **At least** , let me see it on.”  
  
Grif eyed him thoughtfully, “Ahh… I _guess_ I could wear it… but, then you gotta wear the other one. Deal?”  
  
He said the last bit quickly, so Simmons would simply agree without a lot of thought, but even lightly toasted (Mmmm…Toast…), Simmons was too wily for him. The redhead’s green eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Lemme see it first.”  
  
“Alright,” Grif agreed readily enough, as he unwrapped the shirt that Kai had actually gotten _for Simmons_. Not that the nerd knew that. Apparently, Grif had mentioned the kissass in passing _like an idiot_ when talking to Kai (He kinda had gotten a couple of ‘privileges’ that others had to earn, due to his unique situation, and… whatever.), while still _back in Basic_ , for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t thought anything of it, until he’d received a care package from Sister with the silly ass red panda t-shirt, some other shit, and… the shirt that was apparently for Simmons.  
  
It was reddish ( _Almost_ maroon.), had a gold crown on it, was also 2XL, and had writing in Hawaiian. When translated to English it said…oh, fuckin’ Kai…it said, “You’re My Royal Bitch, Baby”. It had a note on it saying, “For your pretty boy toy  & future husband!”. Oh, fuckin’ shit, _Thank God_ Simmons hadn’t seen that.  
  
When Grif had next talked to Sister, he had said, not bothering to bitch at her about sending it in the first place (She was **Kai**. What would be the point?)…  
  


_Isn’t that a little confusing, Sis? I mean, who is whose bitch here? The person wearing the shirt, or the person_ reading it?“  
  
_" He’s **your** bitch, duh! Shouldn't you know that?,” She’d answered him like she normally did. Like he was an idiot, “But, seriously, Grif, I don’t really need to know how you farm your hoes these days.” _  
  
_“Yeah, right… Wait… what!? What the hell does that even mean, Kai? And, I’m NOT giving it to him. He’s just… some guy… I don’t even remember mentioning him to you…” Grif might've sounded a tad grouchy._  
  
_“Oh yeah? You said, ‘You had to go, the kissass was being a little bitch about you guys running late,’ ” Sister tried to “jog” his memory._  
  
_“Ah, **fuck that** ,” Grif replied firmly, without thinking, “We weren’t even late. He just wants to be early to every damn thing…” _  
  
_“And, then,” Kai continued happily, "I asked, ‘What did you find yourself a pretty boy? Kira said that’s what you really needed!'”_  
  
_“Oh man, fuck that, too!”_  
  
_"Yeah, cool, right? That’s pretty much what you said back then, too! But, you didn’t say ’nu-uuu-ooo’, “ she’d sing-songed in his ear._  
  
_“Sister, **quit your crap** ,” He’d had to get all stern n’ shit on her bratty butt, “… Alright, fine. Whatever. Why the hell is it so big, though? It’d be a little loose on me, Sis. So, it would probably **fall** right off the dude.” _  
  
_“Right?! It’s the perfect plan!”_  
  
_“Sure, Sure… Wait-What!?”_  


Well, fuck it. Of course, when Grif pulled the t-shirt out for Simmons for their little “sleepover” -What were they? Frickin’ twelve?- (He, conveniently, forgot it was his suggestion to begin with.), the redhead was made even more suspicious by it saying stuff in Hawaiian. But Grif had played it off so damn well, he was both proud _and_ sorta ashamed of himself. Calmly claiming it said, “I’m the King, Baby” (He didn’t really like to be such an outright fuckin’ lair, and he swore to himself, he would tell Simmons what it really said when the redhead had actually chilled out for once.).

The crown on it must’ve convinced him, because Simmons scoffed as he took it, and stood, “The ‘King’, Grif? Really? And, you say **I’m** arrogant… This is gonna be _huge_ on me.”

Grif smirked a little to himself, and then Simmons’ cheeks flamed Red Team Red all over the place, and he squeaked at Grif, “W-Wait a damn minute! I don’t have any sh-shorts!”

Grif could **see** that Simmons was about to back out. Mere  seconds from full-blown pussification, and retreat.

So, Grif quirked a dark eyebrow at the other man who was nervously shifting from foot to foot, and snickered at him, “You got _boxers_ on, don’t you? Those are  basically shorts, dude. So, what’s the problem? You goin’ commando, or somethin’?”

Simmons yelped, “No! Shut your fat mouth, asshole!”

“ _Hmmm_ ,” Grif grinned languidly at him, “I dunno, Simmons. Now, I just don’t think I _believe_ you. Otherwise, what’s the big deal? Huh? Come on, Simmons, you wanna tell me some-”

“Fine! Fine. Dumbass.,” Simmons growled, “Just, just Turn. Around!”

Simmons, and that sexy little growl. Ah, music to Grif’s ears. Was it any wonder he loved to piss him off?

“Whatever,” Grif waved a hand lethargically at him, but turned around, and started to change himself, telling Simmons, “You can watch **me** change if you want, though, dude…”

“I-I _wasn’t_!”

The Hawaiian couldn't help but laugh, a little evilly, at Simmons little squeak of protest.

When the kissass told him he could turn back around, Grif’s stupid fuckin’mouth got the better of him, again, and as he turned, he was complaining jokingly, but kinda meaning it, too, “I don’t know what the big deal is, anyway. It’s not like I haven’t seen you, basically, well, ya know, _naked_ in the showers, and…”

He stopped talking as he had turned enough to catch sight of the other man, and holy hell, the shirt **was** huge on him… and he had on maroon boxers! (Never mind that Grif’s were orange and red striped.) That was kinda fuckin’ hilarious… But… he looked _good_. Grif sorta wanted… just a little bit, dammit!... to tumble him down onto his bunk, pin him, and just _keep_ him there. You’re mine, bitch.

But, then, Grif realized that Simmons was looking **really** embarrassed. Almost, like he was gonna f’n _faint_. And, Grif’s smirky little smile disappeared in a flash, as he had a moment to freak out about whether or not he’d said that shit  out loud. Ya know, since the whole day, and into that night, his fucking mouth couldn’t seem to get itself under control. He couldn’t even, at that particular moment, remember what he’d said mere moments before. About showers, and Simmons, and _naked_.

And, then, Simmons was on the move. He grabbed what was left of his second beer, and _downed_ it, and then grabbed _Grif’s_ last one that was, also, sitting on the bunkside drawer, and took a huge swallow.

“Hey! That’s mine,” Grif grouched.

Simmons choked, and coughed, and took a small sip before he spoke, a little desperately, “Uh-uh. No, no, no fucking way. After you said that s-shit? It’s mine, now.”

Grif, honestly, still couldn’t quite recall what he’d even said, at that point. So, he grumbled, but gave up. A little too lazy, and mellow, anyway, to bother fighting him for it. (And,… he didn’t want him to leave… )

Simmons took a step. And, suddenly, got a little bit woozy. He was starting to feel sorta relaxed, but kinda dizzy for some reason… Wait… wasn’t he supposed to be pissed about something? He needed to lay down.

So he did. He crawled into Grif’s bunk, while the other man stood there watching him, a bit astounded by his quick change of mood. There may as well not even have been another bunk in the room, and Grif sure as fuck was _not_ going to remind him that there was.

Simmons _stretched_ out, contentedly, on the bed with a million pillows. Wow, Grif really had a lot of pillows... Well, maybe not  technically a million. Lessee here… hmmm… One… Two…

“Simmons?”

…Three… Four…

“Simmons, what the fuck? Move over. That’s _my_ spot,” Grif informed the kissass bitchily. Okay, maybe the whole _bed_ was his spot, but it was the principle of the thing. He was the freaking boss around **here** , dammit! Maybe, _he_ should wear Simmons’ ‘I’m the King, Baby’ shirt! He kinda forgot that wasn’t really what it actually said.

…Five… Six… This was fucking just silly…

“Don’t **make me** pick you up, and toss you half a foot across the goddamn bed,” Grif threatened.

That got Simmons attention. He narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Grif narrowed his eyes right back at the kissass, and then… there was that devilish Grif grin, again, “Oh, wouldn’t I?”

He stepped up to the side of the bed, and placed a large hand on the redhead’s bare knee, making him shiver. His fingers slowly started to slide under…

“O-Okay! Okay!,” Simmons yelped out, “You would! You would! Just… climb over me, you lazy asshole!”

Grif looked a little taken aback, and his hand settled back onto the top of the redhead’s knee, “Uhh… I… I’m…”

Then, he was smirking, “I’m a little unsteady from the booze, man. I might ‘fall’ on you.”

“Don’t you d-dare!,” Simmons scowled at him, “You could suffocate me, dumbass!”

Grif leaned close to him, giving his captured knee a light squeeze, and murmured, voice a little rough, “What if I just fall on you… a _little_ bit?”

Simmons looked like he was actually thinking about it… But, then, he just looked, and sounded, baffled. “… Huh? I don’t get it. How does that… How do you… What?”

Grif started to laugh, as he released him, and straightened up, “ You _are actually_ goddamn soused on like two and half beers! I can see it in your fuckin’ eyes! Ooh, Baby… That’s… You poor son of a bitch. I can’t believe that shit… I don’t know… Whelp, whatever… Come on, move those skinny ass legs so I can get into the bed.”

Grif lifted Simmons legs, practically draping them over his left shoulder as he climbed in to lay on the side of the bed that was against the wall.

Simmons eeped, and pulled down the too big t-shirt that had ridden up when Grif had, literally, lifted the lower half of his body off the bed like he weighed nothing, at all. Simmons knew he was on the skinny side, but…

The redhead drank more of his commandeered liquid ‘please help me quit being a pussy’, and then he _drained_ it (This lightweight son of a bitch. Who’d been feeling it after _one_. Oh, boy.).

Grif was distracted screwing around with his pillows. Mountaining them up even more, so he could lay down, while reclining up. Like it was a fucking _hospital_ bed or…

Hmmm…the redhead suddenly forgot what he thinking… What was that one… huh? *Hiccup*

The booze was _really_ going to his head, now.

Grif laid back, and sighed comfortably. This was… Relaxing. Nice (Not that he’d admit that out loud, or anything. He was too busy trying to figure out if he’d accidently called the kissass ‘Baby’ a little bit ago.).

Grif felt the pretty boy nerd’s eyes on him.

He turned his head… and the kissass was _right there_. Grif opened his mouth. And, it just came out! Again! More. Stuff. He. Shouldn’t. Be. Saying!

“ _Ka nani_ ,” Grif murmured, his eyes flicking lazily over each finely made feature.

“ _Griiif_ ”, Simmons whined in reply, “I don’t wanna.”

“Don’t wan-… what?,” the Hawaiian man sobered a bit. Literally, and figuratively.

“Don’t wanna be _pretty_. It’s fucking **embarrassing** as fuck!…”

“Holy Shit,” Grif was freaked out. Was this that ‘Hive Mind’ thing Simmons told him about before?, “Who said you’re pretty? Did you just read my _mind_ , you nosy little bitch?”, Grif questioned him suspiciously. Considering he had literally _just_ called him ‘the pretty one’, and Simmons’d came to him, earlier, when he’d asked him to, ‘Come to me’, in a language Simmons was supposed to not understand, Grif really couldn’t be blamed for being a little unsettled. Maybe, the two of them really were that much on the same wavelength?

Simmons, either, ignored him, or didn’t seem to hear him, and continued with his whiney-assedness, “Dammit! Don’t wanna be pretty, I said!”, he leaned forward… close, so close… Oh, my God, was he going to kiss him…? Fucking _finally_. This whole, letting Simmons make the moves, because the kissass was a goddamn lightweight, and Grif had to, for some unknown reason, be a halfway decent human being was some serious bullshit. Not being a total creep was  hard work… But, who gave a shit, cause the kissass was fucking _finally_ gonna make his move, and, then, Grif would take over, and show him what’s fucking what…

And, that’s when Simmons, so fucking close he could have licked the tip of the Hawaiian’s… nose… patted Grif’s surprised face with one slender long-fingered hand, instead. *Pat* *Pat* “Wanna be handsome, like _you_.”

“H-handsome?” Oh, mother fucking Christ. Did his voice just _crack_ like Simmons?... Then, Grif snorted, and he barked out a laugh. “Dude, you really _are_ drunk! I shouldn’t have let you steal my last one. Pffft, ‘handsome’. Oh, man… here, gimme my beer back, you lightweight son of a bitch.”

Grif reached over to snatch the bottle from the blitzed out kissass reclining beside him on his bed, but Simmons took advantage of his longer reach to hold the bottle out over the far side of the bed, -God knows why he bothered, it being EMPTY, and all. He was just obstinate- and the redhead complained, “Nuuuu, It’s **mine**. Stole it fair and square. Red Army Handbook section on Search and Seizure says…”

Collapsing back down beside the redhead in defeat, Grif warned, “Oh man, you start with that shit, and you might just get popped.”

“…Whaa?,” Simmons blinked owlishly at him.

Grif growled, “In the face, nerd!”

“Oh….Fucking _ruuude_.” *Hic* And, good ol’ Simmons just tittered to himself.

Grif watched him carefully, and, finally, he snorted out another laugh. He was not nearly as blitzed as the whiner. Like, not even close. More a little buzzed, and just chill. “Christ, you are **smashed** , man. How is that even _possible_. How many…come on, with the one you stole from me -thanks for that, by the way, you asshole-, you’ve had what? Almost three? (He didn’t realize Simmons had finished the third.) Two and a half? Dude, that’s taking lightweight to a whole new level… Just… behave yourself. I don’t need Donut all up my ass… uh, fuck… I mean, I don’t need him bitchin’ me out about getting you drunk...”

“ ’Behave’ myself, hmph…,” Simmons muttered, thinking of Richard’s earlier similar words, “everybody’s bossing me around.” Simmons was no longer amused.

“Yeah, but, dude?,” Grif gave him a crooked smile, “Be real. You **like** that.”

“Hmmm… know what? I was thinking…. I was going to, uh, maybe… I wanna… um, never mind, I forgot.” But, despite Simmons claim, he suddenly sat up, and leaned over top Grif, surprising the hell out of him. The redhead murmured, “I want…”

Simmons fell silent. Hovering over him. Large green eyes flicking from Grif’s dark blue ones, to his lips… lingering… down to his chest…

Oh Fuck, Grif thought. All he’d have to do was wrap an arm around his waist… pull him down… just don’t let the kissass look any lower, because this back and forth thing was driving Grif _crazy_.

Simmons was still hovering over him, and he pretty obviously wasn’t in the most sober state of mind.

And, it was at that moment, when Grif was starting to seriously question his resolve, that the redhead’s eyes caught sight of something on him. Glinting in the room’s dim light.

And the pretty boy reached out… and touched it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we are focusing an incredible deal on this particular day and night. The details of it. What exactly happened. It is very important. This is literally the crux, the set-up of what is to come, truly, a lead up to an event between Grif, Simmons, and Richard that starts it _all_. Even VIC is going to get in here to have his say the next morning in a chapter called, “The Night Before, Someone Saw A Little More”.  
>   
>  Richard will have a separate chapter, -it is completely finished, right now- (I had it done even before this Chapter.), to show the memory that Grif evoked in him, and caused him to have to completely shut off all contact with Simmons for an extended period of time. (Although, he , likely, would have done this anyway, only not to such an extent.) I am unsure if I should have it be the next chapter in the main fic, or a separate piece in the Becoming Whole Series. If it is separate, its title will be: _See Ya Around_ \- Jimmy’s First Betrayal  
>   
> Also, this story _will_ get Explicit, and considering how much I like to describe things, I’m sure you can imagine how explicit it will be! I just don’t want to label it as explicit when we aren’t quite there, yet. And I will always, even when it is officially tagged as E, post in the notes if it is a chapter that has sex, or any possible triggers, so people can skip certain parts if they need to.  
>   
>  Love to you all! <3 –MissyAnn  
>   
> 


	5. Guess We’re All Demons Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard had continued speaking for a moment before Jimmy’s words hit him, “Wait…” He jerked away, releasing Jimmy’s hands, and sitting heavily back on his haunches, “Wh-... You talked? You talked to them? You know we _never_ talk to **_them_** !” He spat out the word.
> 
> “…What did you tell them? What did you tell them to protect _yourself_ , Jimmy?... Oh, oh my god… d-did you tell them about… about me and Simmons?”...  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Edited for Timeline Correction
> 
> Tags/Possible Triggers for Chapter 5: Homophobic Slurs, Homophobia, Underage relationship, Richard's/Alter’s Memory, Indoctrination, Mentions of Severe Physical Child Abuse, just prior to Re-orientation Camp, Blocked/Repressed memories  
>   
>  _Your touch reminds me… Well, one of me…_  
>  This chapter is the memory that Grif unknowingly evoked in Richard that he got locked - ☐ - and looped into, and bled through some to Simmons in Ch. 4: Spend The Night (When Grif first touched, and squeezed Simmons' bare hand, when Simmons seemed to be “measuring” how long his hair had gotten, when "Sleepover" was first mentioned, and when Grif had his hand in Simmons' hair, for example.)  
>   
> Also, on "Alter" Identity: An Alter, regardless of how they came to be, is a very separate entity from the Host. One way to think of it through RVSB standards is how Delta, Omega, or Theta, any of the fragments, really, are fragmented from Alpha, but you don’t think of them as Alpha. They truly are their own entities. They are _of_ Alpha but not _simply_ Alpha, as they grow, and learn, and establish their own individuality. The difference with a true Alter is that they are stuck within the Host body.  
>   
> 

_[“What did I tell you about him!,” Richard snarled angrily in Simmons' mind, “He’s like all the rest! You **can’t** let your guard down. Give it a little time, and he’ll be calling you a fruity faggot boy! Now, let’s fucking GO!”] _  
  
_Simmons shifted. Fury radiating off of him, and Grif, though slow on the uptake due to not always being the most sensitive of people, realized that he had pushed him too far… **again**. He, honestly, couldn’t seem to help himself with this guy. It was like a compulsion. _  
  
_Before Simmons could get up, Grif touched the back of his hand,_  
  
_[Richard immediately attempted to separate himself. It wasn’t always as easy as people thought…]_  
  
_…pressed down lightly…_  
  
_[Another man (boy) touching their bare skin… even if just on the hand…]_  
  
_…a slight squeeze…_  
  
_[Terrified of what this could bring up. Bring back. Because this was- **Wrong, Wrong. Not allowed. NOT ALLOWED.** Richard expected the *ssssnnnaap* Excruciating **pain** , every nerve ending on fire… instead… he saw Jimmy… A memory of Jimmy’s first betrayal… that, in a sense, led to it all… and maybe,... for Richard, anyway?... that hurt even more… _  
  
He hardly had time to move back. Away. Separate. “The kid _can’t_ know. _He can’t remember._ If this, then everything. If THIS, then EVERYTHING. I am Richard. I am Richard. I am _me_ …”  
  
The memory **hit…** …  
  
Encompassing him in its warmth,  
  
Drowning him in its waves,  
  
And within it…  
  
…He was lost.]  
  


✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧✧✧ 

The redhead was tall for his age. Only fourteen. A strange combination of too innocent, and much too knowing. The tall boy laid his hand atop of his friend’s own smaller, delicate one.

“Richie, don’t. Don’t touch me.” Jimmy, nearly a year older, though smaller, and in the same grade, had been his best friend since first grade. But, now, he pulled away as if he’d been burned by hellfire, “You know they said it’s _wrong_. Why are you even here, Richie? Do your parents know you’re here?”

“ _Of course not_! And STOP calling me that. I’m  not “Richie” or… or “Richard”. You haven’t called me that since we were little kids. When we first met! Can’t you just call me ‘Simmons’, like you used to? Like everyone at school does? I mean, just cause you were always the only ‘Jimmy’ at school, doesn’t mean I was the only ‘Ri-Richard’… even before… you know…”

When the other boy didn’t answer, the redhead went on, urgently, “Come on, Jimmy, don’t be like this. I _had_ to come. I could get in… a lot of trouble, you know. My mother could always tell… But, I haven’t seen you in forever! And, you’re- you’re still _my_ best friend… no matter about your other stuff with… Anyway, I was  worried about you. I mean, they pulled you out of the school! You were going there even before I was, and then all the sudden my arm was all messed up, and you were gone! And, I heard the other kids whispering about some… retreat? Or something? They won’t tell me what they’re talking about. They said, ‘You’ll find out pretty soon, f-fruity fagg- Jimmy, they’re calling me names again! Right in front of the teachers, too!... But, at least… my-my father…since my arm?... is gone… He probably didn’t want to pay expensive hospital bills just cause I’m… clumsy…”

“What are you talking about? That’s not what happ- And, I just saw him at the Church… “ Jimmy shook his head, “It’s... It's your _Demon_ , Richie. He’s **_lying_** to you, again.”  


“Ah, man. Jimmy, don’t… How can you even say that? Maybe I should’ve never told you,” the redhead murmured, and then he kicked at one of the newel posts on the bed they sat on, as he cried out angrily, “and he’s NOT a demon!”

“Yes, he IS. He has to be. Y-You know he is. Who… what else could he be? Can you- Do you know?” Jimmy glanced at him, then, bowed his dark head. They’d cut his hair. His “too pretty girl hair”. The redhead wanted to ask him about it. Ask him where he was going to school now, if not their private school geared toward raising future God-fearing gentle-natured women, and strong, intelligent _men’s_ men. But, then, the smaller boy continued, his voice turned snooty and all-knowing, “He’s _probably_ a Demon of Temptation and Homosexu-“

“No! Stop! Why would you _say_ something like that! I thought you were the one who first... Rich-… He said you... Then, why don’t **_you_** have one, dammit!?”  
  
“ _Richie_ ,” Jimmy sounded appalled, “you _swore_.  You **never** swear.”

“Yeah? Well, _who cares_? I don’t know about you, but I get in trouble no matter how good I try to be. So... s-so, who gives a, a SHIT!” He stuttered, but still showed an admirable amount of bravado.

“Maybe, he’s the Demon of Foul Language, too!,” Jimmy cried out, not appearing at all impressed, “And… and, at least, I’m trying to get better! I... I _asked_ to go to the Camp. But, you, I heard you’re always fighting going, and getting help. Or, is that your Demon doing that?… Look…,” Jimmy seemed to try to calm himself, “I-I know your father shouldn’t have done that… to your arm… but it’s almost better, now, so you can go…”

“My _f-father_?,” the boy’s face went splotchy in shock, and turned as red as his hair, “… He… d-did that?…Br-broke-”

The tall boy’s eyes closed, it seemed, in disbelief.

But, when they opened again, no more than a handful of seconds later, his large green eyes were now cold.

“You dumb son of a bitch!,” Richard growled, his voice more than slightly different. More confident. More aggressive. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“ _Richard_ …,” Jimmy breathed, listing unconsciously toward him.

“I thought I was a ‘Demon’, Jimmy?,” Richard scowled as he stood, and began to pace, “I can’t **believe** you! We trusted you!”

“I don't really- But you- The Church says, … and the… the Book …”

“You actually think I’m a frickin’ _demon_? You couldn’t have told me that sooner? And, of all that ridiculous crap! For real?”

“I… I wouldn’t care... even if you were… Will you come back… and sit by me… please? I haven’t seen you in so long… My parents will be home in a while…”

“You’re seriously messed up, Jimmy. You can’t just play both sides… And, what the hell?...,” Jimmy flinched at the word, “… Why’d you say all that stuff to the Ki-, to Simmons? What were you _thinking_? I thought you guys were best friends!”

“We were... We are!… But… Richard… they’re not **letting** us be friends, at all, anymore! They even pulled me out of the school! You know all that! He-he doesn’t _get_ it. It’s like he doesn’t understand how much time has gone by, and I don’t think he even really understands what we’re in trouble _for_ … And, Richard, I _had_ to tell them I wanted to go to the camp. They’re going to send me, anyway. They were going to _last year_ , but with what happened with Simmons’ arm, and it not healing right… and, uh, they wanted to wait until everything cooled off…”

“Oh, nooow, you call him Simmons… Were you acting like that just to get him all freaked out n’ worked up, so I would come out?... _Were you_? Answer me!” Richard’s voice was hard. Demanding.

Jimmy was silent. He looked at the ground, blinking a little too hard. Refusing to meet Richard’s piercing green eyes.

“…”

“…”

Richard sighed, giving in, as he knelt in front of the other boy.  
  
“…Jimmy… don’t ever do that to him…,” Richard muttered, taking the smaller boy’s slight hands into his... But, then, he was raising a hand to gently touch the dark-haired boy’s shorn locks, “Shit…Those assholes cut your hair…” 

Jimmy had always had his hair fairly long “for a boy”. As had Simmons. It had kind of become a part of their identity. Something their mothers loved, as they had always been praised for having such “lovely, pretty” children when the boys were young. They were both delicate featured. With large eyes, and shiny, long hair. Jimmy’s, raven black, and Simmons’ deep, luscious red. Their fathers had hated it, but had put up with it for a long time. And, as long as it was not more than one inch past the shoulders -yes, they would actually _measure_ it- their school would begrudgingly accept it. (Although, it was later suspected by Richard that this was secretly a way to pinpoint the boys with more “feminine” tendencies that may need a bit of “re-education” regarding their orientation.)

Richard sighed, again, and his hand… ( _His_ hand. This was _his_ body, right now. Simmons was -elsewhere- asleep.) his hand settled back down onto Jimmy’s. He gave the other boy’s fingers a slight squeeze. And, Jimmy relaxed into his touch. “Listen. I _know_ what’s been going on. I’m trying to figure it out, alright? There must be something… They can’t control _everything_ … Or, every-damn-body... It’s just hard because I can’t let the K- I can’t let him know how bad things really are…”

Jimmy leaned down. Rested his forehead against Richard’s, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I didn't mean to…”

“…And, I know things have been hard for you, too, but, I can’t have you talking to the K-, to Simmons, about our… _father_ , though. You KNOW, I can’t have him knowing about what really-…”

Richard had continued speaking for a moment before Jimmy’s words hit him, “Wait…” He jerked away, releasing Jimmy’s hands, and sitting heavily back on his haunches, “Wh-... You talked? You talked to them? You know we _never_ talk to **them**!” He spat out the word.  
  
“…What did you tell them? What did you tell them to protect _yourself_ , Jimmy?... Oh, oh my god… d-did you tell them about… about me and Simmons?”  
  
“I, uh… nothing that wasn’t true!... Kinda… And, no! Not about _you_ two…” The smaller boy looked defiantly at the floor, and mumbled, “They were already going to send both of us, _anyway_ .”  
  
“But, you guys are still practically  kids.” Richard shook his head in disbelief. “What do they think could’ve happened? Nothing really _did_ happen!”  
  
Jimmy glanced up, but then quickly looked down again to hide the flash of hurt in his so dark eyes. “Well, that’s not how they seem to see it…,” he mumbled, “And, I’m _not_ a little kid Richard. I’m older than you, er, well, than, Simmons, anyway.”  
  
Richard started to frantically rant, “Well, they wouldn’t see it _anyway_ , **at all** , if you’d kept your mouth shut! All they had on you, _or Simmons_ , were some damn suspicions because they think you’re both too pretty, and ‘girly’, I guess. And, you just hand it all over. All the proof they need. A verbal confession! Like a dumbass! What’d you say? ‘Yes, Sir, me and my best friend brush each other’s long chick hair, and cuddle, and, _most recently_ , we’ve been playing kissy face, too! At our **_sleepovers_**. We’re just a coupla flamin’ fags! Who _knows_ what’ll happen next! Better get out the freaking torches n’ pitchforks. It might be catching!’”  
  
“Richard…,” Jimmy murmured, as he reached out. Touched the other boy’s furiously flushed face.  
  
“ _No_!,” Richard irritably slapped his hand away, “Jimmy, we’re all  boys here, you idiot! You can’t actually think they were going to react the same as if you’d told them you’d been doing that stuff with a _girl_. They wouldn’t even have liked _that_ , right now. And, wait… if you didn’t tell them about me, which you **shouldn’t** , then, you told them… it was you and Simmons? Jimmy! That’s not fair to him! He didn’t really do anything! You two have been having sleepovers for frickin’ years. Since way before I was in the picture. And, don’t tell me your guys’ little brushing each other’s hair, and cuddling like a coulpa _sisters_ is the same as _our_ deal. You just decided to squeal, and mixed all our shit together, didn’t you? Just like I said. Now, they’re thinking a bunch a stuff that never even happened! This is so convoluted, it’s insane! What have you done?!”  
  
“…Richard, please… Are you done, yet? Can we just not _think_ about all that stuff for a while?” Jimmy bit his lip, blew out a long breath, even _pouted_ a little. Very obviously not wanting to face the reality of what was going on, “I don’t know when we’re going to get to see each other, again, after... all this… I… I missed you…“  
  
“You’re un-freaking-believable!… you think I’m some demon of…I don’t even know… **_gayness_** , or something…, which, screw you, by the way, who’s the one who _started_ all that stuff with us in the first place, Jimmy? Hmm?...” The dark-haired boy shifted uncomfortably, and Richard continued, “…You asshole… then, you turn around, and betray the Kid…”  
  
“I **hate** when you call him that,” Jimmy flinched, “It’s super weir-“  
  
“…And  me. You betray me, too. I’m TRAPPED in this body, Jimmy! You decide to turn on your best friend, then, you decide to turn on your _boyfriend_ , or whatever the hell I am to you, too… You _goddamn traitor!_ ”  
  
“RICHARD!,” the smaller boy yelped out, horror-struck, “The Lord’s name!”  
  
Richard scoffed, “Seriously, Jimmy? If I’m a ‘perv’ demon, or something, why would that matter to me?... And hey, why the hell do I gotta be a ‘demon’, anyway? Maybe I’m an angel, a guardian godda-”  
  
“With that _nasty_ Devil mouth?,” Jimmy hissed, cutting him off, “AND, you can’t be an Angel. You-,” Jimmy’s voice dropped to a whisper, “…you like other boys.”  
  
“…Guess we’re all three demons here, then, huh?,” Richard stood to leave, “See ya around, Jimmy.”  
  


✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧✧✧ 

[“…Please, please… I want to sleep. Let me sleep…,” Richard murmured. Entreated. To who? He didn’t know. This place was not -elsewhere- the same. This place flickered, and screamed. Whispered, and taunted. Caressed, and bled. It **_Reminded._**  
  
And, as always, with a memory he had blocked, repressed, hidden away to protect the Kid, (To protect **himself**.) when reminded, he was made to relive it on a loop until Simmons drew him back to him in desperation. Anxiety, fear, loneliness. Hell, sometimes, even a bad dream could cause the kid to draw Richard back. There _were_ times Richard could actually pull himself out, but not until he’d suffered.

It was his punishment. For what, he did not know.

“…I-I don’t want to remember… I trusted him... A part of me... still trusted him... Even, though… I know- _I know_ what happened next…  … I want out…”]

The loop began again.

… The redhead was tall for his age. Only fourteen. A strange combination of too innocent, and much too knowing. The tall boy laid his hand atop of his friend’s own smaller, delicate one.

“Richie, don’t. Don’t touch me.”…

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADDED NOTE: To any possible new readers. Please remember that not everything is as it seems at first glance in situations like this, and try to not judge anyone too harshly at this point. I realize that I wrote this chapter in a way that elicits strong negative emotions toward a particular character, but it HAD to be written this way, as this is a view into Richard's current fucked up headspace.
> 
> I am so excited to get into a little bit of backstory stuff. Even if some of it is sad. And, I can’t _wait_ to get more into Simmons and Richard’s backstory, and, also, start getting into Grif and Kai’s, and a little bit of Kira’s (Grif's first canon transgender girlfriend/OC character) backstory, too.  
>   
>  Regarding this Chapter: So, it is now confirmed. Simmons _did_ tell someone about Richard before. And, Richard even revealed himself. In other words, he didn’t just mimic Simmons, and pretend to be him when he was with Jimmy, and in control of the body. And, Jimmy, who knew Simmons since they were little kids, actually truly saw, and understood the fact that they were not the same, and were separate. He understood and truly knew this enough to form a different kind of relationship, more of a _relationship_ with Richard, than he had with Simmons, his best friend, who, as we will see, and have seen, can be very naïve even to the simplest of things when it comes to these sorts of things.  
>   
>  Also, a thing to know about an Alter in a **real** world setting is that, overall, they, themselves, truly don’t seem to understand what they are, or where exactly they came from. I have seen where an Alter thinks it _is_ a demon, but the Host, from what I have seen, anyway, and I obviously haven’t seen it all, always seems to be coming out of a background of deep indoctrination when this is the case.  
>   
>  Thank you so much to those of you that are sticking with me throughout this story! It means a lot to me. And thanks so much to dear Yin for her support. It keeps me going, love❣  
>   
> Love to you all, truly. ♡–MissyAnn❀  
>   
> 


	6. What’s New, PussyCat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “… unlacing and aggressively as fuck loosening the laces of one boot, all leaning over me, and I swear, I thought the fucker would throw it across the room… but, no, he yanks it off, but, then, all nicely gets up, sets it “neatly” by his footlocker, then, there the kissass is, climbing back onto the bunk with me to take off the other one, and you know what, dude? He was _bitchin’_ at me the  entire time… *Sigh* I dunno, man. Maybe, I’ve developed an asshole fetish, or something…”  
>   
> Donut’s eyes _gleamed_ , as he leaned forward to pat Grif’s shoulder, “Well, I understand how you feel, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of Grif!…”  
>   
> “Whaa…,” Grif looked at him, confused, and then…, “Oh, fuck! That’s NOT what I meant, Donut, you little shit!”  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Hawiaiian to English Translation** : Maka nani: Beautiful Eyes
> 
> Tags for this Chapter: Some of the language is briefly NSFW- story itself is not, yet, though, Referenced/Brief Mention of Severe Harm to an Underage Individual/Teenager, Homophobic Slurs, Homophobia, Brief mentions of blood, Blocked/Repressed Memories,
> 
> ❦ Also, any mentions of Grif and Simmons time together in Basic are purely AU. Themes from S14 are not, as of now, included. ❦
> 
> Donut calls Simmons “Sims”, sometimes. There is a reason beyond just the typical “shortened name nickname” that is revealed later. Also, as people that get close do, they all, pretty much, end up having nicknames for each other. Some are nicer than others… _Lopez_. Yes, I’m looking at YOU, Asshole.
> 
> Oh yeah, and they still have regular drinking water, at this point. Honestly, I’m not convinced that they don’t just run out early, periodically, before drops, for some, uh, reason… I have a chapter, later on, mentioning it called, “Your Freckles Remind Me” that has a reason for this, in this AU, anyway. _Someone_ , gets their little ass chewed out…

_Oh Fuck, Grif thought. All he’d have to do was wrap an arm around his waist… pull him down… just don’t let him look any lower, because this back and forth thing was driving Grif_ **crazy**.  
  
_Simmons was still hovering over him, and he pretty obviously wasn’t in the most sober state of mind._  
  
_And, it was at that moment, when Grif was starting to seriously question his resolve, that the redhead’s eyes caught sight of something on him. Glinting in the room’s dim light._  
  
_And the pretty boy reached out… and touched it…_  


  
Grif was… honestly? Kind of in a state of shock.

Simmons had tentatively poked at the ridiculously old-fashioned, but sentimental, plain gold hoop in his ear like he’d never _seen_ such a thing. Which he had. On Grif. But, fuck. Who could truly know the mysteries of a pretty boy mind?  
  
And, then… this was the kicker. Without looking, Simmons carefully reached out, and set the beer bottle, that he’d still been clutching, down onto the bunkside drawer. And, he _sunk_ down, laying partway across Grif, crossing his arms on his thick chest, cocking his pretty head, and resting it on the crook of his own arm… then, Simmons reached out a hand, again, and…  
  
Holy _fuck_. Then, he **batted** at Grif’s earring like he was some lanky, lethargic  cat.

Grif was almost like, ‘Dude, seriously’? But, he didn’t wanna break the spell. This _guy_. Grif shook his head a little, but that only made Simmons giggle in response, and snatch at Grif’s earring like the Hawaiian man was _playing along_ , and Simmons had “caught” it. It was, uh… sorta strange (Weren’t A LOT of things with Simmons, though?), but that didn’t mean Grif wanted it to _stop_. It was kind of hilarious, and adorable, too, after all.  
  
I, mean, this was _Simmons_. Who could be a complete prick, sometimes. Total AssholeSimmons, all the way. But, occasionally, Grif got to see this other side to him. Which was pretty wacky, now and then, -Not always!-, but kinda… dunno…  sweet and cute as fuck…  
  
*Sigh* Grif wished Kai could meet him… Only like _this_. Not like he could be when he was busy kissing Sarge’s ass, and following protocol. But, all chill, and flashing that  real smile that Grif felt like he hardly ever saw…  
  
Oh shit! But, knowing Kai, she’d try to _sleep_ with him. Then, he’d have to kill them both. Yeah, **Scratch. That**. She could _never_ meet him, until his ass was  his.  
  
Sister or no, she could get her own dudes!  
  
Ugh. Or, how’s about no dudes. Or, chicks. Or, anybody. That’d be better.  
  
Simmons broke into his thoughts, one slightly bony knee moving to rest onto Grif’s leg… Whew… It was a good thing Grif had, uh, chilled out a little bit… (Fuck. Could your dick, like, have some kinda heart attack, like a _dick_ attack, from all this crazy shit? He hoped not. Ah, dammit- ) Still messing with his earring, the redhead mumbled, “Can’t believe, Sarge… lets you keep this…”  
  
Grif couldn’t help but sneer, ”Ah, fuck ‘em. He tells me ta’ take it out, I say, ‘Sure, Sir. Yes, Sir. Right away, _Sir_ ’, and all that shit. And, then, I just put it back in again when he turns his damn back. I mean, really, _fuck him_ …”  
  
“Grif,” Simmons cut in, “Uh, you shouldn’t-shouldn’t say th-“  
  
The Hawaiian talked over him, “I’m NOT gonna fuckin’ lose it! And, that’s all there is to it.”  
  
“Oh…um, is it…,” Simmons sounded a little nervous, “…important, or… something?”  
  
Grif grunted, and didn’t answer him at first.  
  
Simmons remained silent. Watching him, with those frickin’ big, thoughtful eyes.  
  
And, with a weary sigh, Grif finally gave in, “It’s just… Sister, my sister… I mean, seriously, dude, I was gonna go with something a little more with the fuckin’ times or whatever, and I WILL when I get back home, but… I dunno, shit was, uh… busy, I guess, and, then, the Draft… Anyway, I got her these hoops, right? And, she pierced it with this, and she… you know, whatever, she wears the other one. She wears it like a cartilage hoop, though.”  
  
When Simmons just looked at him blankly, the Hawaiian muttered, “You don’t know what the fuck- like an earring that’s right…,” Grif touched the tip of the redhead’s ear, not even thinking that he could have simply shown on his own, and ran his finger lightly down a bit to show him where…, “…here.” He tapped.  
  
Simmons sighed, almost blissfully, at the other man’s touch, and closed his eyes.  
  
Perhaps, Grif had had too much to drink on practically nothing, as well, because his finger kept running down the outer shell of Simmons ear until he tapped a second time. His earlobe.  
  
“Maybe you oughta get one,” he suggested lowly, “Bet it’d look good on you.”  
  
Simmons eyes flew open, and he looked more than a little unsettled by the idea.  
  
Sometimes, Grif really _did_ know what was going on in that big ol’ overthinking nerd brain of his. He groaned, “Yes, Simmons. Guys CAN have them, too. See, look.” He gestured toward his earring that Simmons still absently fiddled with, “Dude, you _really_ got a problem with this whole dudes being dudes, and chicks being chicks thing… I mean, I guess, I  get it with the way you look… Can’t have been easy growing up looking like-“  
  
Simmons moved up, hand falling away from Grif’s earring to press firmly against the other man’s chest. A quiet plea.  
  
Grif fell silent.  
  
The redhead swallowed hard, and tried to smile, “Um… what’s your sister, uh, like?”  
  
Grif smiled a little himself, his attempt being quite a bit more genuine, “Ah, man, she’s a fuckin’ handful…” Without warning, his eyes suddenly narrowed, “Wait, _why_?  
  
Uh-oh. Give him a couple beers, and his jealousy starts spiking all over the place. Mix that in with his over-protectiveness toward Sister? Fuuuck. But, even  knowing that, he couldn’t seem to help himself.  
  
“Huh?,” Simmons hand curled into a loose, nervous fist against Grif’s chest, “I… was j-just curious?… You seem, you know, close like famil-… like it… s-should b-be?” His voice cracked several times, through-out, but it _trembled_ on the last two words.  
  
And, Grif sensed it again. That there was something beyond fucked in this guy’s past. Like, somehow, even worse than his deal with that woman that had given birth to him, and Kai. I mean, at least him and Sister had had each other. Who had Simmons had?  
  
Grif put his hand over top the redhead’s, unfolded his shaky fingers from that loose fist, and pressed his hand down again more firmly against him.  
  
Simmons looked so goddamn _sad_. Shit. The booze was making him all f’n melancholy. (Or, fuck. Maybe,  Grif had accidentally done that…)  
  
“Hey, Simmons?,” Grif asked, feeling a little guilty, “Wanna, uh, see some pictures? But, you **better not** laugh if I’m in some of them…”  
  
Those sad green eyes actually seemed to light up, “Yes, I want to! Gimme ‘em.”  
  
“Nahh, you go get ‘em,” Grif yawned, “They’re in the footlocker. Where the shirts were.”  
  
“Wait, huh?,” Simmons looked a bit lost, “They’re, they’re hard, um, copies? Huh. Who does that? So weird.”  
  
But, he shrugged, and hopped off the bed. Only to sway dizzily, and inform the other man, in a high-pitched tone filled with wonderment, “ ** _Holy_ crap** , Grif. I think-I think we had an _earthquake_.”  
  
Grif sniggered, and decided to raid his snack drawer, that they’d dumped everything back into at some point, while Simmons pulled himself together enough to remember what he was up to, and actually get back with the pictures.  
  
Hmmm. Better get another water for the kissass before he started whining… Mmmm… Water for him, too, so Simmons didn’t bitch him out about him “dehydrating his skin”, or some shit, like he liked to do… Some Oreos. A snack cake. Or two. Or three… What the… a _Peanut Butter_ Snickers? Where the fuck had _that_ come from? Bet the kissass didn’t even know that was a THING. Mother of God, Simmons would probably _suck his cock_ for… uh… um… He had not _even_ thought that shit… he meant, they’d have to, erm, share that one later when Simmons was a little more hungry n’… stuff…  
  
“What was I do- Pictures! Fuck. I got up too fast,” Simmons, that quickly, forgot about the “earthquake”, and excused his behavior on pretty reasonable, and perfectly explainable, temporary light-headedness NOT attributed to alcohol consumption. At. All.  
  
He took so damn long wandering around, and _finding_ the pictures, that Grif was actually done bingeing for the moment, and impatient.  
  
Then, smiling slightly to himself, the redhead, finally, sat back down.  
  
But, far away on the _edge of the bed_ this time like a total **douchebag**.  
  
“Heh. Uh, is this your, um, sister? She’s cute,” He announced to the room at large. Before Grif could get pissed, he blurted out, “Must be, er, related to you… Yeah, um, uh, c-cute- Like, um… She-she looks like you!,” And, he Red Team Blushed his _ass_ off, “I mean-I mean, but a girl, uh…”  
  
Grif blinked sleepily at him. Was he calling him “cute”, now, for fuck’s sake? Ah, jeez, get some drinks in this guy, and who knows what he’d say…  
  
Without thinking, Grif gestured to him, and mumbled, “Come back here.”  
  
Simmons glanced back at him. A little unsure. But, his face only got a bit pink this time.  
  
“I wanna see, too, Simmons. Don’t be selfish. And, who’s gonna explain the pics to you, huh?,” Grif asked, very reasonably.  
  
Simmons tried his best to sound very calm, and very, entirely sober, “Well, I suppose that _is_ logical.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Grif dropped the act, and snickered at him, “now get your ass back over here, you big baby.”  
  
Simmons let out a little offended squawk, but he stiffly got up, and moved back to sit beside Grif. High up on the pillows. Too straight. Too tense. He drank some of his water that Grif had opened for him (Because Grif _could be_ a goddamn “ **gentleman** ” or some shit, motherfuck it!), and set it back down too hard. Spilling some.  
  
He looked like such a snooty, challenging little kissass son of a bitch. Grif just couldn’t help himself.  
  
He reached around him, wrapped an arm around his slim waist, and pulled him back to rest against the pillows beside him… he didn’t remove his arm, and he kept pulling him closer. Closer. Turning him into him. He was, honestly, about to pull this skinny little kissass right on top of him… _Comere, you sexy little fuck_ … but, then, he remembered who he was dealing with. Craaap. He stopped.  
  
Simmons was so close to him. His hand that had had the pictures in it, was splayed, and pressed against Grif’s chest, again. He’d dropped the pics from nerveless fingers when Grif had kept pulling him closer, and they had landed on the Hawaiian’s stomach.  
  
“Hey…,” Grif murmured, “You cool?”  
  
Simmons stared at him, and, then, chuckled a little, okay _a lot_ , nervously, “I-I’d like to, uh, think so? But, uh… you… you’re always calling me a ‘nerd’, so…”  
  
Grif snorted at him, and rolled his eyes, “You _are_ a nerd… and you know what I mean.”  
  
Simmons looked down at his hand. Pressed to Grif’s chest.  
  
“Hey, it’s fine if you’re not…No rush, man…” But, Grif couldn’t help but give him a little squeeze. Reassuring? Comforting? Fuck. He had no clue.  
  
“I’m okay. I’m alright,” Simmons whispered, not quite looking at him.  
  
It had been  years since he’d last said the words out loud. But it steadied his mind.  
  
He looked up. Finally, meeting Grif’s eyes, again, and the other man hummed a little under his breath, muttering some phrase, “Maka nani”, that Simmons assumed was in Hawaiian, again. But, this time, he asked.  
  
“What’s… what’s that mean?,” the redhead asked, still in a whisper.  
  
Grif looked startled. Like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. After a moment, he answered, “...It means... You’re a kissass, and you should mind your own business...”  
  
“Oh, yeah?,” Simmons arched a pretty red eyebrow at him.  
  
“Yeah,” the Hawaiian challengingly raised a dark brow right back at the kissass.  
  
Simmons eyes narrowed, “ I dunno, Grif. Seems like a, kinda a long translation for what you said...”  
  
“What can I say, Simmons,” Grif looked at him innocently, “It’s a mysterious language...”  
  
Simmons shook his head, as he backed up a bit, flashing a tricky little smile at the other man, “Well, I’m just gonna pull it up on my HUD. You know us ' _nerds_ ', we just **gotta** know stuff...”  
  
Grif pulled him back against him, “Nuu-Nuu-No. You get back here. I _told_ you, already, dude. What? You really don’t trust me?”  
  
“Not when it comes to, ya know... _that_. You could, um, you could be saying anything...,” Simmons blushed.  
  
Grif _almost_ mockingly, just fuckin’ around, said, “Aw, fuck you, dude. No trust, at all. And, here I thought we were kinda friends, too.” Shit. His jaw snapped shut, and, luckily, that one didn’t get out. That wasn’t really a “him” kinda thing to say, and he... well, hell, he didn’t wanna accidently, ya know, like the kids say, “friendzone” himself, or some frickin’ crap.  
  
Ahhh, mother fuck! Even, the word “friends” brought back that freaking _song_ that Donut had insisted on playing for him when _they’d_ gotten a little smashed... **Alright** , so maybe he’d gotten pretty fuckin’ smashed. That was how Donut even _knew_ about his stupid chick feelings for Simmons.  
  
Goddammit! _Fine._ So maybe, it wasn’t just _beer_ (And, it was actually  two six packs, too.) that he’d swiped from Blue Base. Those mother fuckers had a **liquor cabinet** in their old Captain’s quarter. So, yeah, fuck it, he’d grabbed some bottle of some hard shit (Oh thank fuckin’ _God_ things hadn’t gone differently, and he’d pulled  that out from under the bed with Simmons deal with hard liquor, or whatever... That coulda been bad…), and the beers. He’d been in a hurry, obviously, so he didn’t get to really pick, and choose. And, when he finally, got to check out what he’d even got... it was fruity crap! (He had a feeling, though, that even if he _had_ got to pick, and choose... it woulda ALL been fruity crap.)  
  
And, not just ANY fruity crap. _Blue_ fruity crap. Smashed Blueberry Beer. Blueberry Flavored Vodka. (Holy fuck, Sarge woulda killed his ass.) He hadn’t mentioned the beers being fruity to Simmons cause… he didn’t know… he didn’t wanna seem like he was, like, trying to _minimize_ shit, or talk him into it… he hadn’t _wanted_ to do that. I, mean, it  did smell like beer, it just tasted a little… different. Kinda sweet… No wonder Simmons, with his hidden sweet tooth, that he apparently had along with the peanut butter addiction, had been guzzling it.  
  
Anyway, seemed like it might have had a different alcohol content, too. That shit seemed stronger than just regular beer.  
  
Oh, well. It’d been such a goddamn pain in the ass to get it. At least, it wasn’t weak-ass shit.  
  
Hmmm… the booze and Simmons. The Song. They reminded him of when he got the stuff in the first place. Of course, he’d stashed it. All in his room at first.  
  
And, _literally_ , the very next frickin’ day, before he even had his armor on, Sarge, Simmons, and Lopez went on some wacky field test run with some landmines they’d been working on. And, _Simmons_ , who’d been an unbearable prick to him for two days straight, had talked Sarge into leaving Grif’s ass behind (Donut was already staying behind to clean up, and make dinner for that night like the good Base wife he was.) to help Donut clean.  
  
Oh, Grif was so mother f’n pissed…  
  


**✥ ♫ Come On & Let's Be Friends! ✥**

Grif was so mother f’n pissed.  
  
But, after they left, Donut had cooed, “Aww! It’s _sooo_ sweet! You know Sarge was going to **mount you** out there, and _use you mercilessly_ again, and again… for a test dummy!... Hmmm… Goodness! That’d probably blow you sky high… So romantic! Sims was trying to protect you from him!… and protect you from LoLo, too, I guess… Heehee! Sometimes, I think LoLo is _programmed_ not to like you! Ol’ sweetpie Lopez… Isn’t that just the silliest thing?”  
  
And, man, Grif had been so _done_ with this shit.  
  
“Hey, know what? _Fuck. This._ I ain’t cleanin’ shit,” he declared, “Wanna get drunk, instead?”  
  
Donut, who had chucked his armor the second the others had left, had twirled his strawberry blonde hair coquettishly. “Who, me?,” he asked.  
  
“Ah, shut the fuck up, Donut. I’m not hitting on you, dumbass,” Grif scowled, “I just hate drinking alone. It’s… depressing, man.”  
  
“ _Annnd_ , you’re already depressed?,” Donut guessed.  
  
Got it in one. Right on the goddamn nose.  
  
“No! Fuck no!,” Grif had insisted.  
  
“ _Awww_ , honey, I know,” Donut had sighed sadly, and dramatically.  
  
“Shut up, Donut.”  
  
And, so they’d drank. Well, _he’d_ drank, while the Rookie had sipped like a fuckin’ priss. And, Donut had come up with a undercover spy/code “ _nickname_ ”, for Christ’s sake, for their “secret friendship” that Grif could never seem to remember, could never WANT to remember, at that point. And, Donut somehow got him talking…  
  
They’d been hangin’ out, drinking in Donut’s room, which God knows why, cause _fuck_ it was fuckin’ **frilly** , Donut sitting cross-legged on the bunk manicuring his nails in-between sips, and Grif lounging back in some chair that Donut had an embroidered (He’d been big on that, for a while.) pink, and red flowered cushion on.  
  
Grif’d went to kick his feet up on the bed beside him, n’ Donut had scolded, “Heeey, no boots on the bed… Heels, okay, but not-”  
  
And, Grif, already getting loose-lipped on the vodka, had complained, “ _Simmons_ woulda just taken my boots off… he did in Basic…”  
  
“Oh, yeeeaaah?,” Donut’s eyes seemed to sparkle with the excitement of upcoming _information_.  
  
Grif huffed, took another drink of the too sweet for his palate liquor, and winced, “Yeah, dude. Man, you shoulda seen it…”  
  
“Ohhh, I wish I _did_ ,” Donut smiled, playfully.  
  
Grif ignored him, and continued, “… I mean, here’s this pretty dude, I, literally, just met that day, with his goddamn hands _all over me_. Well, it felt that way… he’s all climbing in his bunk with me, cause I swiped it from him for a nap cause he _owed_ me, and he’s getting all rough and shit…”  
  
“ _Ohhh_ …,” Donut shivered. He liked story-time with Grif. He decided he liked it very much.  
  
“… unlacing and aggressively as fuck loosening the laces of one boot, all leaning over me, and I swear, I thought the fucker would throw it across the room… but, no, he yanks it off, but, then, all nicely gets up, sets it “neatly” by his footlocker, then, there the kissass is, climbing back onto the bunk with me to take off the other one, and you know what, dude? He was _bitchin’_ at me the  entire time… *Sigh* I dunno, man. Maybe, I’ve developed an asshole fetish, or something…”  
  
Donut’s eyes had _gleamed_ , as he’d leaned forward to pat Grif’s shoulder, “Well, I understand how you feel, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of Grif!…”  
  
“Whaa…,” Grif looked at him, confused, and then…, “Oh, fuck! That’s NOT what I meant, Donut, you little shit!”  
  
And, then, Grif had just had to guzzle down more booze. Fuckin’ Donut.  
  
That musta backfired, though, cause, apparently, Donut got him talking even **more** (Seriously, it wasn’t Grif’s fault. Don’t tell anyone, but the dude was pretty easy to talk to when it was just you two.), and Grif, honestly, wasn’t sure of all Donut had gotten him to say… But, he knew he’d talked about Simmons, and Kira, and fuck, he thought, _un-fucking-believable_ , but he thought, even, the fuckup that had got his name into the system, and got him Drafted in the first place…

He didn’t fuckin’ know… All he DID know was that he was so goddamn fed up with every damn thing…

And, the next thing he knew the Rookie was shaking him awake. He must’ve dozed off in the chair, the combination of too much booze an’ venting had exhausted him, but Donut, kept shaking him, and was practically hopping up and down with excitement, “Grif, Grif, Grif! I found it! Oh, my goll, it’s _perfect_ , it’s so **perfect**!”

“Whaatha wha, now?,” Grif asked, still a bit bleary.

And, the over-excitable son of a bitch had put on this… this song.

Grif had _groaned_ , “Shut. It. ooooffff…”

“No, no, no! Listen! Listen to the _wooords_ , Grif! It could have somehow been written for you guys. Just… just listen…Pleeeaaassse!,” He took a deep breath, “… Pleee-”

“Alright, goddammit! **Alright**! Fuck… Start it the fuck over, then… what-who?... what is this supposed to be about, ag-…” But, then he heard the opening words.

**♫** Find a way through the grey, grey area  
**♫** Are we just friends tonight?  
**♫** We can't stay in the grey, grey area,  
**♫** It's time for black or white…”

“… Ah, Jesus _Fuck_ ,” Grif swore.

“I KNOW, right! It’s s-so, s-so perfeeect,” Donut almost _cried_ in his utter joy.

Grif just groaned his ass off, bitched about how gay the song was, told Donut to STOP singing along, but… but he listened… And, only got _more_ bummed out, cause, well, fuck his goddamn lame ass life. And, this  stupid lame ass song. And, _oblivious_ lame ass Simmons… he could go on and on and on…  
  


**✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥**

Ah, man… To remember that _embarrassing_ ass song with Simmons right beside him. Pressed to his chest like…  like something precious… sure as hell not like just a “friend”…

The thoughts only made him pull the kissass closer…

“Grif… I…,” Simmons voice fucking _shook_. Simmons wanted to just kiss him. Or, something. To get things fucking moving, already! He’d never been a patient person. But, God, he felt so scared. He felt like he might be _killed_ , actually fucking die for doing any of this, at all, with another guy. It didn’t _matter_ how illogical it was, or how much he wanted to. When it had been, _literally_ , smashed into your brain over and over that This. Was. **Wrong**. YOU were wrong. You looked like a fucking _girl_ , and that was _disgusting_ enough…

Simmons leaned back a little, picked the pictures up off Grif’s belly, and set them shakily on the bunkside table. His hands trembled, so he pressed them to Grif’s heart to steady himself. So fucking cheesy, and lame-sounding, but he needed it.  
  
Grif seemed to get it. That he needed to slow it down some. He was determined to, if Simmons wanted to, at least, get somewhere in this. At least, establish some damn thing. But, there was plenty of night left.  
  
So Grif pulled the trembling redhead back down, rested a hand on his slender hip. While his other arm lay across Simmons’ pillow, being used by Simmons _as_ a pillow.  
  
And, Simmons found he could breathe, again. Had he not been breathing right? He hadn’t even realized. But, Grif had. Grif had.  
  
Simmons long, slim fingers reached up to curve around Grif’s jaw, while his other hand still rested on his chest. Laying face to face, eyes closed, they both settled into almost a half-doze.  
  
Grif really _did_ know that he had to slow down. Chill a little bit. He got it. It was just… this was kinda how he understood things. Like if they were “together”, then, they’d be _together_ … right? I, mean, he’d only had an actual “relationship” with Kira, and although that hadn’t ended great, that was how it had worked with them. And, they’d been together, awhile. Almost a year… He didn’t know what the hell that had to do with anything, and so much of it she’d been planning to leave… but…

And, the other stuff, the other people, that, uh, hadn’t really been about anything, but… fuck, he didn’t know… he guessed he didn’t take it well when people fucking abandoned his dumb ass… Even, though, he guessed in hindsight, she’d tried to be sorta decent about it… and she’d taught him a lot… Not just, ya know, sex shit, but… stuff about… fuck, he didn’t know… people n’ whatever. The more things got “different” with Simmons, the more he wished he’d paid closer attention to her little “teaching seminars” (He swore to God that’s what it had felt like, sometimes.) that involved more than just sex stuff. *Sigh* Oh well.

He didn’t fuckin’ know. He just knew he didn’t wanna mess it up with this dude. And, it was obvious this son of a bitch had been repressed for a long-ass time, and Grif didn’t want things to go bad.  
  
Huh. Man, he guessed some-fuckin’-how he really _had_ had too much to drink, too. I mean, was he actually almost being _honest_ with himself? About his chick feelings for the kissass?... Wow… what a crazy fuckin’ day…

It was such a trip. Laying here like this together. What were they “communing” with each other, or something? Grif’s lust had turned to something more tranquil. He really didn’t want to rush him, and fuck it up. And, hell, as far as Grif was concerned? There was _always_ time for a little nap… Especially with  someone you l-… *Zzzzzz*  
  


**✧ Richard Trapped In The Memory Loop ✧**

[If he had to see Jimmy’s pretty traitor’s face one more time… he HAD to stay angry at him… he _had_ to… to survive… It all could’ve happened yesterday for him. For _Richard_ (Simmons can’t know, Simmons can’t know, The kid can’t-) If… he remembered… if Richard remembered… what had happened… to Jimmy… to his-his… his sweet Jimmy Bean… if he had… to remember… the blood… That Simmons had _seen_. But, thanks to him, to Richard, (Repressing. Blocking.) Protecting him, the kid, Simmons, he normally didn’t remember… (Didn’t Remember So Much… So Much…)

But, Richard had waited too late, and now the kid had remnants, fragments of memory. Enough to blame himself whenever he _did_ start to remember, which he never should... remember OR blame himself. It was all Richard’s fault. He knew that. And, he hated, he _HATED_ himself…

Richard just hadn’t been able to be alone those first days. _He_ had needed Simmons, then. He had been afraid… he might give up… And, if he had died while in _this_ body, Simmons would have died, too… He couldn’t allow… No matter what happened. What he had to do. To go through. To give up… To survive…

His face. His sweet elfin face… His long raven hair… His frightened traitor’s lips… _I’m so sorry, Jimmy Bean. So sorry._ …  
  
No. NO! It was sweeping over him. Attempting to interconnect loops. Loop him into a new, the next, then the next, the next memory… the one to break all his resolve… Richard’s ability to stay _Angry_ , instead of Destroyed… Because, because the blood… Stop… Stop… Don’t-Don’t-Don’t!…  
  
“ _NO_! ENOUGH!,” Richard demanded in a almighty righteous fury, as he wrenched himself up and out of relentless reminiscence. This –in here? **Inside** \- was _his world_. He didn’t know why it always took him so long to remember that. Why sometimes, most times, he  couldn’t remember it, at all, and had to rely on Simmons to pull him out of a loop. Not this time. Not, again.  
  
_Never, again._  
  
Safe. Back Home. With the kid. All… he had left in this world, and the last, and, as far as Richard knew, the next…  
  
*Sigh* “That’s… that’s better… I’m… I’m okay, now… I’m… alright,” the Alter muttered to himself as he drifted. Beyond exhausted.]  


**✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧✧✧**

  


Simmons’ eyes suddenly opened, and widened. Grif would’ve found it almost comical if he’d seen it. But, his own dark blue orbs had drifted shut earlier, and they remained closed. He was still pretty awake. For him, anyway. But drifting…

The redhead’s mind pounced. Oh _thank God_. **There**. There he was.

Richard wasn’t talkative. And, he seemed drowsy. But, he was _there_. Unaware of where they were, anymore, or what was going on. A little grumbly underneath Simmons' electric, desperate, and re-affirmative mental touches. But, _there_.

This didn’t happen often. Richard seeming to disappear completely like that. But, whenever it did -while it was happening?-, for the longest time the redhead would always try to believe that Richard was just -elsewhere- wherever he always went, and ignoring him. But, eventually, Simmons was bound to freak out. It was only Grif’s presence, and his unprecedented show of concern, that had stopped the full-blown panic attack that had been brewing.

And, afterwards, when Simmons knew Richard was safely (back?) with him again, Simmons always felt protective toward him. Even, then, in his, uh, not exactly entirely sober state, he still felt that way.

Mostly, though… he felt relieved. It could hardly be explained. The fear and anxiety that started to overtake him every time he couldn’t call Richard back to him, couldn’t _feel_ him there… because even when Richard was -elsewhere- not there, Simmons could still distantly feel his presence… It was like… When you felt someone moving in another part of the house. Or, you saw someone through a closed, thick sliding glass door. You _knew_ they were there, Safe. Even, if they weren’t right beside you. Even, if you couldn’t speak to, or touch them (Was that where _he_ , Simmons, went when he woke up to missing time, missing… ?). He’d found that was preferable, to when…

To when Richard seemed to disappear completely, as he had a bit ago, and, then, Simmons would feel that sick dread in the pit of his stomach. And… and, he would start to wonder if this, _this_ , would be the time Richard just _didn’t come back_ … No matter what Simmons said, or thought at times, (And, he could be awful to Richard when furious, or confused.) it fucking **terrified** him. It was a strange thing, considering the moments he felt desperate to be _normal_. Desperate to… (get rid of him…) he couldn’t even bring himself to _think_ of it. What would happen to Richard if Simmons got “better”? Got “well”? Would he just… disappear?

“Are you okay?...,” Simmons, without thinking, murmured aloud to Richard, who felt very precious to him when he’d seemed so close to lost. Simmons was so concentrated on that warm weight in his head, and in his chest, that for that moment he lost track of where he was, although the palm of his hand still rested on the upper curve of Grif’s jaw, and his fingers played lazily over the earring, and the curve of the other man’s ear.

[“ _Shhh_ , sure, kid… Just… let me sleep for… a little bit…,” Richard murmured back in his mind. And, he seemed to drift off, again.]

“Okay…,” Simmons whispered back. Still aloud.

Grif’s eyes _just barely_ … slit open…

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have next Chapter completely done (Other than a title), and I can put it up at any time. I’m unsure about what to do, though, as I’m not sure if I put the Chapters up too close together, if people won’t even realize I put up a second new chapter. And, the following Chapter which is very nearly done called “I Wanna Taste” (And, it’s _not_ talking about the PB snickers ;p.) has some material that people have very likely been waiting for, but some material won’t make ANY sense if the chapter after this one is accidently missed. Any advice, or am I overthinking, again? And, the Chapter after _that_ is completely done… Guys, I have a lot of stuff to make up for my unplanned absence! Apologizes, btw. Got sick, _again_ (Boooo!), and these chapters required more time than I thought.
> 
> Also, we are starting to get into areas of the story that have songs that are connected to them. The material was always written beforehand, and not based off a song, so it is amazing to me how well these different songs fit.
> 
> [ Sam Tsui Grey Area with Lyrics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hf2klHvD840)  
>   
> The Song (which I swear to God I could _hear_ Donut singing along to) that Donut found that he says fits Grif and Simmons situation to a tee. It is ridiculously perfect. Poor Grif. It really is SO embarrassing…:
> 
> [ Tom Jones - What's New Pussycat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cB-ur_x-1Hg)  
>   
>  The Song this Chapter ended up being named after (Because Drunk-Simmons is a big ol’ goof. _Murr-oww_ , baby.), which is frickin’ _hilarious_ and adorable as all hell, and I can’t believe how silly and perfect it is. Imagine Grif playing this song for Simmons, like, when they’re married one day to fuck with him (Or maybe… be nostalgic? Fuck knows with Grif.) about him playing sweet kitty that night! And, poor Simmons scowling, pouting, and blushing his ass off, somehow, simultaneously, because he’s just THAT talented, “I-I don’t remember any flowers, Asshole!”) ☺  
>   
>  This next song showcases Richard’s basic current _inner_ state of mind, which is so important to try to understand right now, and is _NOT_ fun, and funny like the last two. It will give more insight into what has happened, is happening, and will happen, though. One thing to understand, when coming out of a loop, Richard has no concept of time. Of _when_ it is. The memory loops really F him up. Bad. As next chapter will show.
> 
> Also, this song actually has a line that is repeated a few times through-out that speaks to Richard’s actual origin story. And what he is. Of course, you never _really_ know what, or who, or from where precisely with an Alter, but as this is a fictional story, I will present two possibilities, in particular. And, this song addresses both these ideas in one line. Ahhh! It’s hard to say it without SAYING it! One of the ideas was, also, hinted ( _blatantly_ ) at when Richard’s was trapped in the memory loop this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> [ Evanescence - Going Under with lyrics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOkJaJjfzbE)
> 
>  
> 
> (And, as the song says, Richard has bled for Simmons. He really has. And, uh… and, for Jimmy, too.)
> 
> The Beer they drank. 9% Alcohol content, eh? Considering Budweiser is only 5%... I’m not into beer myself, but I’m a research-oholic, so, now, I know that pointless crap… :p Anyway…  
> [ I just love the idea of all three Reds, at some point or another, drinking ‘Dastardly Blue Booze’ right under Sarge’s nose. Lil’ Red Rebels!](http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/139/68949/)  
>   
> [And, Donut’s embroidered cushion (ONE of them)](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/48/60/6b/48606be3c0823119675ca7f2c2f4bc65.jpg)


	7. Who Are You Talking To?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look at you, baby,” Grif sniggered, as he used his thumb to lightly wipe at the corner of the redhead’s mouth, which may or may not have actually had anything there in the first place, “Got chocolate on your face...,” His eyes might have been playing tricks on him, and he’d pretty much given up on censoring himself. He didn’t even realize he was calling him it, anymore. Calling him what? _Exactly_...  
>   
> ...Grif wanted to kiss this damn kissass, already... He thought of what it would be like. If he kissed those pretty nerd lips. What he would taste like... Mmmm... Like Blueberry Beer, but with what a little glutton he’d been with the “sweets”, as he called them... he’d probably taste like peanut butter  & chocolate…  
>   
> Grif almost _groaned_...  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepovers Are Fun! All Aboard Cuddle Express! And will everybody STOP saying “Kinky”! Goll! 
> 
>   
> Tags for this Chapter: Mentions of Severe Harm to an Underage Individual/Teenager, Warning: Memory of some Nasty Homophobic Slurs, Homophobia, Brief mentions of Blood in End Notes, Alter/Host Switching without Companion Knowledge, Referenced Underage Relationship, Blocked/Repressed Memories, Rampant Overuse of Html Special Symbols, Longest Summary _Ever_ , Author Not Even a Little Bit Sorry ;p
> 
> ❦ Reminder, also, any mentions of Grif and Simmons time together in Basic are purely AU. Themes from S14 are not, as of now, included. ❦
> 
> Umm... sooo... Warning here. There is a slightly disturbing, kind of emotional situation in this chapter, but it is, basically, sort of (As much as possible, at this point, anyway.), dealt with next Chapter. -And, things do end up taking a very, uh, nice ☺ turn, next Chapter, too, which I am so excited about!-
> 
> Also, just wanted to mention that -Elsewhere- the place Simmons or Richard usually seem to go to when apart will, also, be further explained eventually. The reason it is always referred to as an aside is basically that both Simmons and Richard are kind of afraid of it, and don’t like to think of it directly. It’s, frankly, sort of a scary deal, and concept.

_“Are you okay?...,” Simmons, without thinking, murmured aloud to Richard, who felt very precious to him when he’d seemed so close to lost. Simmons was so concentrated on that warm weight in his head, and in his chest, that for that moment he lost track of where he was, although the palm of his hand still rested on the upper curve of Grif’s jaw, and his fingers played lazily over the earring, and the curve of the other man’s ear._

_[“ **Shhh** , sure, kid... Just... let me sleep for... a little bit...,” Richard murmured back in his mind. And, he seemed to drift off, again.] _

_“Okay...,” Simmons whispered back. Still aloud._

_Grif’s eyes **just barely**... slit open... _  
  
  
Grif’s eyes _just barely_... slit open... and he moved his hand from the redhead’s hip, and laid it overtop Simmons' own narrow, long-fingered one that gently rested on his face. Simmons seemed to relax even more under his touch.  
  
Grif was feeling kinda glad he’d showered, and shaved that morning. He might have been a little bit prickly, but at least he wasn’t _scruffy_. He wasn’t sure Simmons would be touching him like this if he was... but, then, who knew? Maybe he’d be into that... Grif wouldn’t mind seeing it. Not to be an asshole, or anything... but just for the visual memory of... little scruff marks all over that damn creamy skin... Ah, dammit! He was getting himself all worked up again...

Anyway, Grif had done it to shut the kissass up... Well, that was one way of putting it. Maybe, he really just couldn’t take another second of that manic depressive energy spilling out of Simmons every fucking _pore_. And, if listening to the asshole for once would make him happy... It was kinda fuckin’ nuts that they were even together like this, at all, considering what a goddamn _mess_ Simmons had been that morning...  
  


  
❂Earlier that morning ❂  


  


“Grif! We have to patrol in forty... two and... a half minutes. Finish eating, and go take a goddamn shower,” the redhead commanded.

Grif waved him off like a pesky fruit fly, and muttered around his spoon, “Ahhh, ta’ morrow…”

“No! Now! Or... after you eat... Whatever!,” Simmons ordered.

Grif swallowed, and shrugged nonchalantly, “Hey, Simmons? The fact that I’m even _up_ , and outta bed right now is pretty frickin’ impressive. Take what you can get, man.”

Simmons actually stamped down his foot in frustration. “You’re only up because I bribed you with breakfast!”

“Oh, yeah?,” Grif leaned forward, a little closer to the annoying ass son of bitch, “Well, I still say **you’re** the real bad guy here! You  never said it was gonna be _healthy_...,” Grif spat out the word like it was unbelievably _filthy_ , as he scowled at the redhead.

“Hmph!,” Simmons couldn’t _possibly_ have sounded like more of a snob if he tried, “Oatmeal is a very nutritious-“

“Shut your _dirty mouth_ , Simmons. I don’t wanna hear it. That is _not_ what I’m eating right now...”

Simmons furiously threw a red rooster, or cockerel, embroidered dishtowel at Grif’s head (Yes. They had embroidered red cock dishtowels. One word on how that had happened: Donut.), which somehow Grif actually caught, and lazily wiped his face on.

“You’re right! It’s not! As soon as you crumbled fucking _Oreos_ into it, it stopped being whatever _I_ made you. And, I actually thought it’d already be sweet enough for you with the fucking _mountain_ of brown sugar you put in there-"

“Aw-aw-aw, Simmons,” Grif ticked a finger back and forth at him, “RED sugar. Remember, Sarge wouldn’t let you get any last drop unless you called it that- And, hey! I don’t know what the fuck you’re bitchin’ about, _anyway_. I’m **eatin’** it, aren’t I? Is this one of those ‘I slaved all day over a hot stove to make this healthy porridge crap, an’ nobody appreciates me’ deals? Does Mama Bear need a cuddle?” Grif smirked.

“Uaa! F-Fuck you! Fuck you!,” the redhead sputtered.

Grif ate some more of the actually not that bad food, -musta been the Oreos-, and mumbled in-between bites, “Uh-huh, sure... *Gulp* Just keep on repeating yourself, Simmons. Cause repetition _always_ makes everything more effective. Just ask Sarge!”

Simmons glared, but sidled closer to him.

“Just,... at least, let me put some of these dried cranberries into your bowl,” the redhead wheedled, “… Come ooon, _don’t look at me like that_! It’s not like they’re **poisonous** , or anything!”

Probably, not the smartest thing to say when you’re trying to get someone to try something...

Grif covered his bowl with his hand, and looked at the other man with a mixture of suspicion, and warning, “Don’t push your luck, asshole. I don’t give a fuck how lazy you all think I am, I _will_ knock a bitch out.”

“ **Fine!** Goddammit!,” Simmons glowered, and angrily threw the packet of dried cranberries onto the table (Where the fuck did him, and Donut, get ahold of all this weird shit?), before restlessly pointing a trembling long, slender finger into Grif’s face, “Just h-hurry up, and finish eating so you can go shower before patrol!”

“Aaand, we’re back to that again. And, ‘hurry’? Seriously, dude? When have you _ever_ seen me hurry when there wasn’t a gun pointed at my ass?... – _Holy FUCK_! That wasn’t an _invitation_ , Simmons! You get your gun, and I really _will_ kick your ass! You come back here, **_NOW_**... Do I sound like I’m fucking around? Don’t _make me get up_. You better... Yeah, that’s right, you get the fuck back here... Don’t _pout_ … Good-... Damn, Simmons, you’re really on edge today. Is this gonna be another one of those days?”

“Shut your fucking mouth! And. Listen. To. Me.” the redhead wrung his (luckily weaponless) hands together in obvious, and over-blown, distress, “You can’t just rely on your fucking armor’s filters so much! It’s been four and a half days-"

“You keepin’ track a’ when I’m showering, dude? Down ta’ _half days_ ,” Grif, already forgiving him, he couldn’t seem to help himself (In the long run, he never could.), wiggled his eyebrows at him, “Kinky.”

Simmons blushed a little bit, but, then, resolutely went on, his voice getting more anxious with each word, “The last time I cleaned them they were a mess! And, _you know_ , I do routine maintenance checks on our armor on Saturdays! If-If you keep being so goddamn **lazy** , and relying on your filter system so much, I’m going to have to start doing that sooner in the freaking week, and that’ll throw off my _Whole Schedule_ , and, and-"

“Fuck, Simmons! First of all, I’m not sure any of the shit you’re saying makes _any_ frickin’ sense,” Grif was getting a little frustrated himself. Couldn’t he just eat a damn meal without a neurotic nerd on his ass?, “And, second... You don’t _have_ to do shit for me, man! I never asked you...”

“Bullshit, Grif! If I don’t, who will? It sure as fuck won’t be _you_. That’s for goddamn sure!,” Simmons bitched back at him, and he even kicked at Grif’s chair at the word ‘you’.

Grif’s eyes narrowed, but he still took another couple bites, keeping eye contact with the furiously scowling Simmons the whole time.

When he answered, he repeated, and punctuated each word with his Oreo-oatmeal covered spoon, finishing with a wide, circular flourish, causing the redhead to yelp, and jump back to avoid getting splattered with sweetened sludge- I mean, food, “You. Don’t. Have. To. Do. Shit. For. Me... I’ll get the Rookie to do it.”

Before, Simmons could stop himself, he gasped, and cried out, “No! Fuck you, you pig! How-How dare you?!”  
  
He started _pacing_. The kitchen wasn’t that big, overall, so it looked a little ridiculous, and a lot frantic.

Oh, yeah. Shit. He was having one of his bad days alright. Where he started to _really_ get nutty.

The next time he paced by him, Grif poked him in the arm with his, luckily licked clean this time, spoon, and the redhead squealed angrily, and slapped at him.

But, he stopped pacing.

“Alright. Chill. Forget about what I said. Rookie wouldn’t know how to do anything right, anyway,” Grif couldn’t help but smirk at him, again, “Not like a top-notch kissass, anyway, huh?... And, I’ll take the fuckin’ shower when we’re done eating... So, dude, you should sit down. Your food’s probably gettin’ cold or whatever, and you’re gonna make me run outta time...”

Grif sounded like he didn’t really care if he sat down one way, or the other, but Simmons knew by now that if he refused to eat he’d have a fight on his hands. The redhead always lost weight when he didn’t eat right, and, he couldn’t afford to lose too much. Oh, and, Grif gave him _so much shit_ , was just such an insufferable pushy, snide _asshole_ if he started to lose weight, that it just wasn’t worth it.

Simmons sat in the chair Grif helpfully kicked out for him. Bowed his head. Closed his eyes. You’d almost think he was praying. But Grif knew he was actually lost in thought. Getting wrapped up into his own head, again. Lost...

“Dude... Hey... Simmons...,” Grif tried to get the redhead’s attention, and finally just straight-out told the difficult ass son of a bitch what to do, “Look. At. Me. _I’m fucking talking to you, asshole._ ”

When Simmons raised his head, no fight left in him at the moment, as Grif had suspected, the Hawaiian man mumbled, “It’ll be fine. Alright?,” He _wanted_ to say, ‘What’d I tell you back in Basic, Simmons? First day we met? Huh? What. Did. I. Tell. You?’, but... he bit it back, and, instead, he just repeated himself, a little more assuredly, “It’ll be fine...”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧ ✧ ✧ ✧✧✧✧ 

  


... _“Okay...,” Simmons whispered back. Still aloud._

_Grif’s eyes **just barely** slit open, and he moved his hand from the redhead’s hip, and laid it overtop Simmons own narrow, long-fingered one that gently rested on his face. Simmons seemed to relax even more under his touch... _

“Hey, kissass. Were you talking to me?,” Grif asked, quietly, and he watched as Simmons’ eyes focused back onto him, and his fingers, which had still continued to thoughtlessly caress Grif’s face even underneath the added weight of the other man’s palm, stilled. And, then, started to tense. He had had such a relaxed, _soft_ look on his face, but Grif could see the worry start to cloud his eyes...

“You just looked like you were thinking about saying something,” Grif quickly, but calmly, corrected himself. Not that you _did_. Not that you did, dude. Come on, don’t freak out on me...  
  
And, maybe, Simmons had had just enough to drink to not realize that the two sentences really didn’t fit each other, - ‘Were you talking to me?’ and ‘You just looked like you were thinking about saying something’-, that they really meant two different things... or, maybe, he simply wanted that badly to believe that he could _have this one thing_ without being such a fuck-up that he kept revealing himself (his secrets...) to the one person he... he had started to think he most wanted to not scare away... whichever it was, he _wanted_ to be fucking happy for once... so, he chose to believe him. And, fuck the rest of it.

Grif saw it. Felt it. Simmons relax back against him, again. Decide to just let it go. Say, “Fuck It”. Whatever the redhead’s deal was, he was never going to feel any damn better about it, in the other man’s opinion, until he could learn to do that more often. Just learn to chill with whatever the hell was going on.  
  
And, honestly? Simmons actually choosing to chill out, instead of freak out?... Hmm. Just to himself? In his own thoughts n’ stuff... Grif actually felt kinda... proud of him.  
  
The Hawaiian man pressed his own hand lightly down onto Simmons’, before reaching out…  
  
“Look at you, baby,” Grif sniggered, as he used his thumb to lightly wipe at the corner of the redhead’s mouth, which may or may not have actually had anything there in the first place, “Got chocolate on your face,” His eyes might have been playing tricks on him, and he’d pretty much given up on censoring himself. He didn’t even realize he was calling him it, anymore. Calling him what? _Exactly_.  
  
Simmons turned slightly into his touch, and Grif wasn’t sure how it happened, but, he had cupped his chin in his palm, as his thumb ghosted over the skin above the redhead’s upper lip.  
  
And, he was looking at Simmons lips, again. They looked so different, -those perfect “cupid” lips, or whatever-, in real life, and not projected with a hologram…  
  
Grif wanted to kiss this damn kissass, already. This taking it slow thing... fuck... It made you get all up in your head. But, shit, it did ramp up the anticipation about it all... It made him think. He thought of what it would be like. If he kissed those pretty nerd lips. What he would taste like... Mmmm... Like Blueberry Beer, but with what a little glutton he’d been with the “sweets”, as he called them... (Fuuuck, it had been nice to see him so greedy  & _hungry_...)... he’d definitely taste like peanut butter  & chocolate...  
  
Grif almost _groaned_...  
  
And, Simmons leaned a bit closer to him. Grif’s eyes flicked up to his. Oh, fuck. Was this actually gonna happen? Could they just quit with the bullshit, and seal the deal? Actually... be fuckin’ _together_ already?  
  
Oh, God, oh God. Simmons was so goddamn _anxious_. But, somehow... in a good way. They’d just been playing this game for a long, long time...  
BUT... he **had** to calm down. Richard was (back) around, even if he was sleeping, and when Simmons got too anxious... well, Richard could get confus-  
  
[“What?,” Richard mumbled. Simmons could feel the accompanying mental stretch, “What’s the matter, Kid?”  
  
Oh, no.  
  
“Nothing, Richard. You should sleep,” Simmons tried to sound calm, but Richard sounded strange, still confused. And, that was _never_ a good sign.  
  
Grif pulled him, well, _them_ , now, closer, and Simmons couldn’t help, but just look at him, completely speechless. Feeling a little lost. What was he supposed to say?! _Wait! I want to. So, so fucking bad, dammit! But, I’m not exactly, uh, just myself? Right now? Can you hold on real quick while I, at least, **try** to put the half of me that might punch you in the face back to bed? He can be a real cranky son of a bitch, sometimes.._. Fuck. His life was so goddamn ridiculous…  
  
Oh shit, he didn’t have much time...  
  
“Richard, please-“  
  
But, Richard wasn’t listening to him. He looked through what was currently their eyes at Grif, and asked, so quietly, although still internally, “ Jimmy?”  
  
Simmons gasped, luckily, on the inside, “ _Oooh, fuuuck_. **No** , Rich-“  
  
And, pushed, practically mentally body-slammed by a confused, bleary Richard, Simmons went to -elsewhere- sleep.]  
  
Grif saw it, instantly. Despite being almost pathetically lost in this, unbeknownst to him, stolen moment, he saw Simmons’ (Who he _thought_ was still Simmons.) large eyes blink, his head cock just slightly, and his gaze turn... _calculating_. Thoughtful. Uh-oh. AssholeSimmons Alert.  
  
But, still, he couldn’t help but run his thumb softly over the redhead’s lips as he muttered, “Sometimes, you get this look on your face... Heh. Looks like you’re thinkin’ about killin’ some asshole…”

Richard’s expression changed in an instant. He looked upset, disturbed by the thought, and the fact that the dark-haired boy (man) sounded so, so different... But, still, his other hand came up, and as he cupped the face that he, somehow, saw as Jimmy’s, he swore, he promised, “Not **you**. You KNOW that. Never _you_. Okay?”

Simmons' voice was... different. But, Grif refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he chuckled, turning, and rubbing his nose into the redhead’s palm, “Well, THAT’S a relief.”

The other man frowned, and to Grif’s dismay, pulled away, and sat up.  
  
But, Grif hooked an arm low around his hips to keep him from getting any further away.

“You wouldn’t let me actually kill him, anyway... Not even to Protect you. Or me, or him!,” the redhead, who was not Simmons, scowled, “No matter how much, especially, **he** deserves it… ”

Uhhh... What? Grif assumed Simmons was talking about Sarge, and protecting him from, well, _Sarge_ , and Simmons, himself, and Donut from Sarge’s insane plans. Which was extremely weird for _Simmons_ , King Kissass, to say... Grif didn’t have a fuckin’ clue... Or could it be... was he talking about Jackson from back in Basic?... But, that didn’t make sense... nothing had actually happened. He hadn’t had a chance to... Right?

Grif just quietly watched the other man’s face as he looked down at him. And, still somehow seeing someone lost to him, Richard’s eyes softened, and he sighed.

“I’ve always loved your hair... Raven... I... hated when it was... to see it short...,” Richard mumbled, leaning down a bit to gently touch Grif’s hair, much as he used to touch Jimmy’s...

_Raven_?... O-kaaay. He would definitely have to come up with a better, in other words, more _embarrassing-ass_ , nickname for Simmons. “Baby” was sooo not going to cut it.

Grif, thinking he, thinking _Simmons_ , was talking about back in Basic, responded, “Yeah, back when those assholes cut it. That was so damn lame.”  
  
Although, again, Richard heard the different voice, the swear words little Jimmy Bean would usually never dare to say, had always been so _afraid_ to say... he couldn’t connect it. He couldn’t _see_ anything, but Jimmy. Older, somehow, but still, Jimmy. And, Richard got angry, and insisted vehemently, “They shouldn’t have done that to you! Any of it! To any of us! It wasn’t fair! None of it was fair!”  
  
“Hey, hey. Come on. Yeah, it fuckin’ sucked, but it grew back,” Grif almost sounded soothing.  
  
As quickly as it had come, Richard’s ire cooled. He looked so sad. _Broken_ , even. His hand slid through Grif’s hair. “I see... I guess... it did grow back, didn’t it? I guess they can’t take everything from us, can they?”  
  
Grif just listened to him. Let him say whatever it was he needed to say. The redhead, who Grif thought was Simmons, didn’t seem to expect an answer, anyway.  
  
Sometimes, Grif remembered back in Basic when Simmons had let the cat out of the bag that he somehow hadn’t actually chosen to enlist himself. Grif didn’t even understand how in the fuck that worked, but he wondered if it was part of why he... kinda... felt...connected, or some lame shit?... to Simmons. Like, they were both forced into shit they hadn’t chosen...  
  
__

_✩ Basic: The Bunkhouse that Simmons and Grif Share ✩_

_

(Although This _Was Not_ Originally The Case...) 

_

  
  
Pvt. Paulie just talked, and talked. Would that self-important fucker **ever** shut the fuck up?  
  
Finally, he sauntered out of the bunkhouse, leaving the two men alone.  
  
Grif finished up the ration bar he’d been munching on while he tried to ignore Paulie Parakeet ( _*Squawk, Squawk *_ , Bitch.), and, finally, turned to the unhappy redhead, that sat beside him on his bunk.  
  
Scowling. What else was new?  
  
“Alright, kissass. Let’s hear it,” Grif sighed.  
  
Simmons grumbled, “Shut up. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about...”  
  
“Yes, you fuckin’ do. Come on, man, what’d he say that you were just _dyin_ ’ to set him straight on, huh? You looked like you were gonna bite your goddamn tongue in half, dude... Tell me, bitch!,” Grif bullied, when Simmons remained obstinately silent, “I don’t wanna hafta deal with your annoying ass pouting all fuckin’ day!” * _Pinch_ *  
  
Simmons jumped, and smacked Grif’s arm. “No pinching, asshole!... It’s just... It’s called the ‘ **Delayed** Entrance Program’, not the ‘ Belated Entrance Program’..., and Paulie didn’t even know what the fuck... It’s **actually**... it’s so you have some time after enlisting, and can actually fucking bail if... if-if you WAKE UP one day-“ The redhead’s voice had risen, and his face was flushed, “-And realize that that motherfucker signed you up for all this like-like _that_ was the only way! The only **possible** way! The answer to everything! And, you can’t do shit, because they say **you** , YOU, didn’t sign up under the ‘Delayed Entrance Program’, and, and...”  
  
Grif cut him off. He wouldn’t have thought something like that could happen... someone else signing a person up... but, then, look what had happened to _him_ , “Dude,” he asked, carefully, “Is that what happened to you? Who did-”  
  
Simmons blinked, startled, “Uhh... erm... NO! Did I say that? I was just... making conversation, dumbass!” He seemed nervous, and very defensive, “I-I, uh, believe in the principles-”  
  
“Don’t,” Grif stopped him, “You don’t gotta play that whole ‘Worship the Flag’, ‘War is Always the Right Solution’ bullshit with me. I don’t give a flying fuck about that shit.”  
  
The redhead was quiet for a long, long moment, then, he shifted about a little shyly, “Soo... wanna... another ration bar?”  
  
Grif gave him ‘gimmee hands’, and answered him like it was ridiculous that he'd even asked, “ **Yes** , _I wanna another ration bar_...”  


✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

  


Grif focused back on the here and now. The redhead was continuing on, as if picking up in the middle of a conversation Grif hadn’t initially been present for. Grif didn’t know how right he was.

“...I didn’t know what to do... I’m so sorry. I’m ssso... sor-sorry,” Jesus, were his teeth chattering?, “I wanted you to be safe... I missed you so much... and I... I... I didn’t know how bad it would be... I wish we would’ve gone together...”

“ _No_ ,” Grif demanded, clutching him tighter, fingers digging into his hipbone, “Don’t say shit like that.” Grif had no idea that he wasn’t talking about when they’d been separated for training after Basic. When Grif had had to go to his doomed training base... Fuck. He couldn’t think about that... And, if Simmons had been there with him?... He... well, Simmons wouldn’t have survived just because he was fucking useless, and lazy like Grif did (And, maybe a little depressed. A little goddamn lonely for someone he’d only known a handful of months...)... Oh God, he didn’t want to remember... but the other man was continuing…

“And, listen... I never meant to... be so hard on you, earlier... I was so angry... I didn’t think about- I didn’t even ask... uh… how... It was so damn dumb of me... I know better... It's like I wasn't thinking at all... Just, promise me, don’t...,” He, suddenly, commanded, “Let me see your hands. How...? Are you okay? Lemme see. _Now_.”

“Uh, o-kay,” Grif complied with his wishes readily enough, although he really wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to this point. But, hell, first time drinker. Maybe the booze was just affecting him weird. It happened.

As soon as he gave his hands to him, the redhead turned them over and over, and, leaning closer, examined them, running shaky fingers up Grif’s inner arms. Pressing his palms down onto his wrists...

Finally, Grif asked, “Baby, what are you doing?,” He tried to joke, but it wasn’t easy with how fucking devastated that pretty face looked. His voice may have come out a bit tense, “I don’t have any tattoos there... yet. Heh. Is, uh, that what you’re looking for?”

A look of complete confusion crossed the redhead’s face. Fuck it. Grif would take that over destroyed any goddamn day.

Richard (Or, AssholeSimmons as Grif thought of him. He really still didn’t _quite_ get it at this point.) looked astounded, “ _Baby_?... _**Tattoos**_ ...What? I... I don’t understand... I feel so frickin’... Everything's so damn blurry... It's almost like I... am I... am I _drunk_?”

“Maybe,” Grif visibly relaxed, chuckling a little, as he pulled his wrists out of the redheads too tight grip, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down to rest his head onto his chest, “Maybe a tiny bit drunk, dude.”

Grif held him to him with a large palm cupping his head, as he absently rubbed the redhead’s back with his other hand.

Richard was so tired. Everything about this was very backwards. Simmons might seem like he’d have a submissive streak when it came to this stuff, but Richard certainly didn’t.

But, none of that meant anything to him at the moment.

“I’m... so glad you’re okay. That you didn’t... I thought you were... I can’t, I can’t...” Richard whispered into a chest that wasn’t even remotely Jimmy’s. But, his mind was currently too splintered to understand that. He couldn’t even remember how old they were... But, then, the question of the actual age Richard identified with had always been a conundrum, hadn’t it?, “... Maybe... maybe, I can sleep, now?... I’m just so, so tired... Just for a little bit... I promise...”

“Again, huh? Well, you know me, man. I’m always up for another little nap,” Grif said agreeably, glad to not talk about nightmare-inducing shit, or... or whatever had him so worked up, anymore.   
  
Even if it was nice to know he’d... cared...   
  
But, honestly? Grif’d already known that. If the couple of horrific “PTSD episodes” Grif’d had soon after coming to Blood Gulch after the- the massacre. That Simmons had somehow gotten him alone for, and helped him through. Never talked shit about, or told anyone else about... If- If all that was anything to go by...   
  
How had Simmons even known _how_ to calm him down, and chill him out, anyway?

Simmons had been so, from what Grif could even remember, as his head had been pretty fucked up, so… _quick_ to respond... You’d almost think he had personal experience with “post-traumatic stress” crap, and he’d researched it so he knew just what to do if, _when_ , something inevitably set Grif off in those early days or some... something.   
  
Could that... Had that been a thing?

Maybe, that was part of why Grif tried so hard (And, he did NOT do that shit for just anyone. At, freaking, all.) to deal with, or work * _shudder_ * (Fuckin’ HATE that word. _Work._ ) with the redhead's, uh... _peculiarities_.   
  
It was just a thing. When it really came down to it. They, um, they had each other’s backs.

* _Yawn_ *   
  
But, anyway... Disregarding all that shit...   
  
It was still pretty early to go to bed for the night, but a little nap never hurt anybody, as far as Grif was concerned. In fact, it had saved his mother fucking life before so... (No-No. Don’t fucking ever think about…)   
  
And, maybe afterwards, Simmons would be more sober, more himself, and they could... hang out some more.

“Yeah, nap sounds good,” Grif told him, already starting to sound half-asleep.

“Hmmm... Always... * _yaaawn_ * been a Lazy Bean, huh?... Some things * _yaaawn_ * never change,” Richard tangled his fingers gently, securely into dark strands as he half-yawned the words, with a small smile on his face. As he listened to the heart that beat beneath his ear. The blood that pumped safe in his veins.

“Ho-kay,” Grif huffed out a small laugh, “I don’t know what that means...”

Richard simply hummed sleepily, and drifted off. With Grif following soon after.

❉ ❉ ❉ ❉ ❉ ❉ ❉❉ 

  


Simmons woke up a good hour later to find himself being held securely in Grif’s arms... With his head resting on Grif’s chest... What? What the hell? And, Grif was _asleep_? Hadn’t they been about to... He blushed... kiss, or... something? That was the last thing he could remember... That familiar strange blankness pinged across his mind... _Richard?_... No... No. Richard was safely -elsewhere- asleep. He was completely out of it, too. Simmons couldn’t blame him...

So, had Simmons, seriously, just up, and... _passed_ out on top of Grif? How fucking embarrassing! And, of course, Grif’s response would be to just go to _sleep_.

Oh man... he should really go. He still felt kinda off, but... Grif probably didn’t mean it... about the sleepover thing. How _stupid_ of him! Why would somebody like Grif, who always picked the easiest road, want anything to do with a fuck-up like him. He couldn’t even get drunk, and kiss someone (Not just someone... _Grif_... Grif.) without fucking it up, for Christ’s sake! Stupid...

(“... _Fuckin’ **FAG**! Ya thought I wouldn’t know? Didja? I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN! So **Stupid**! You always bin’ so goddamn fuckin’ **STUPID**_ !,” the memory of a deep voice from long ago... his, his... father’s voice… venomously reminded him.)

A shudder ran through him. He bit his lip. _Hard._ Grif mumbled in his sleep, and pulled him closer, held him tighter... But, he wanted to stay... (“ _You... That faggot!... Always bin’ too pretty, ya little fucker!_...”)... Oh God, oh God, yeah, he was-he was gonna go... He was going!... He would go... but... but, maybe... maybe he should tell Grif first?...

Grif always had a weird thing about expecting to know where he was all the damn time... probably, just because they were paired together on patrol almost constantly, and, then, back in Basic they’d been… anyway... Yes. That was the right thing to do.

And... maybe... somewhere deep inside... he hoped that despite how completely fucking hopeless he was… Grif would tell him to stay.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✩And, the Longest End Notes Award Goes Toooo✩: I was going to post this song I wrote next Chapter as there is a memory Simmons has with himself, Richard, and Jimmy that shows at least a small glimpse of Richard and Jimmy’s relationship, and also, shows the very distinct separation between the relationships between the three of them, but, -honestly?-, next Chapter has such great, sweet stuff going on with Simmons, and Grif, (I’m not bothering to hide it. Like, anybody thinks Grif would be cool with Simmons leaving the “sleepover” at this point!), and I really can't bear to end off next Chapter with something sad. That is just so not the mood.  
> Even, though, I swear, if you read this again after reading the memory in next Chapter of the boys when they were together, and happy, it may have more meaning.  
> Anyway, this is Richard’s Song for Jimmy Bean.  
>   
> What It’s Like
> 
> Richard’s Song for Jimmy Bean  
> By: MissyAnn
> 
> Do you know what it’s like to be lost inside?  
> Do you know what it’s like to have to hide?  
> So alone, So afraid...  
> It’s so dark inside.
> 
> Do you know what it’s like to be dead inside?  
> Do you know what it’s like to _always have to hide_?  
>  One night, one blade...  
> Hide away from another memory made.
> 
> So tired, So angry,  
> Abandoned, Dismayed, Forever Betrayed.  
> The death of love is the beginning of...  
> The death of trust is the beginning of...  
> (Giving up)
> 
> Empty, bloody hands,  
> Frozen smile, Shattered plans,  
> His and our blood on my hands...  
> Oh, the blood, how it ran.
> 
> To see you again and again,  
> But live on without you,  
> My beloved, my friend...  
> I will always be lost, in the end.
> 
>  
> 
> Live on My Raven,   
> Live On...
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I _really_ want it clear that the two relationships were completely separate. Thus, why Simmons is so anxious about kissing Grif (Other than just the fact that he is another guy), even though Richard, in the same body (With Simmons consent, I might add. He just didn’t want any part of a relationship like that, himself, with someone he grew up with.) had a boyfriend before when they were younger.  
>  The song is, purposely, a bit disjointed due to Richard’s breaking down, and losing concept of time, and the order events took place.  
> Anyway, is it becoming clear, yet, what happened with Jimmy? With Richard and Simmons? It is not as cut and dry as it may seem at first glance. And, Richard has been repressing _hard_ , even from himself, but it's breaking down.  
>   
> Lastly, regarding what just happened with the switching without Grif’s knowledge. You know, it’s sad, because you see that Grif _does_ already see the duality, even thinks of Richard as “AssholeSimmons”, as in not just _Simmons_ , at this point. He can, at times, recognize when they’ve switched, and when they are both there, he just, honestly, has no clue that that is what is actually happening, and that Simmons isn’t simply, a “normal oddball person” (As Simmons thinks of it next chapter.) that has some pretty serious issues, and talks to himself, sometimes. If Grif had known what was up, when he and Simmons were about to kiss, and, then, it was “AssholeSimmons Alert”, he could have been like “Richard, dude, chill out”, actually called him out (It’s important to acknowledge the Alter’s name.), and reminded him of where he was (And when, and with who). But, you can’t blame Simmons, either, as this wouldn’t be an easy thing to tell someone about.
> 
> I am so excited for Next Chapter, I can’t even begin to say- We just need some happy, lovey stuff after all that, and next Chapter is so much about that. Of course, with a little angst in there, considering what just happened, but Grif and his irrepressible mouth can never seem to let things stay angsty for too long!


	8. I Wanna Taste You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **We’re having an Opening Day Sale! Free Samples Here!**
> 
>  
> 
> Sooo… Everybody gets that this has somehow kind of turned into like the equivalent of a “date”, or something, right? : p Or as close as you can get in Blood Gulch, anyway… 
> 
> Simmons squinted at him, and was silent, distracting Grif by leisurely rubbing one of his slowly warming feet up and down in-between Grif’s calves…
> 
> A long moment of silence.
> 
> “… _MAKING A DEAL_!,” Simmons, obviously very goddamn proud of himself, called out, very suddenly, and  very loudly, startling the shit outta Grif who was so focused on the redhead’s foot rubbing against him that he had basically become hyper-aware, and sensitive to each place their bare skin touched…
> 
> Having been shocked out of his pleasure-stupor, Grif gasped out, “ _Simmons!_ Jesus! Shut- Just _Shhh_! Tell the whole damn canyon why don’t you! Fffuck.”…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Hawiaiian to English Translation** : Haole: A white person, formerly any foreigner
> 
> Tags for this Chapter: Warning: Memory of some Nasty Homophobic Slurs, Personal Homophobia, Blocked/Repressed Memories, Insensitivity Toward Mental Issues Due more to Ignorance than Cruelty (Yep, that tag is back, again.)  
>   
> Warning: Dumbest kid joke _ever_ used in the beginning of this chapter. But, I swear as a kid I remember thinking what if someone actually said the meaningful thing, and a person thought they said the jokey thing instead? I know that made no sense. It will when you read the beginning of the chapter. I _promise_ to attempt to restrain myself from such childish ploys in the future. Just had to get this silliness out there just once in my life, and it fit too well with Grif being such a damn glutton. ;p  
>   
>  Also, Simmons can actually speak Grif’s language! Well, the one that really counts. You know, the language that speaks to a man like Grif’s heart…  
>   
> If you have noticed characters speaking, reacting, doing, or thinking things in a similar fashion, good eye (Sticker Star for you, love! ✪ )! This is to show the, at times currently unknown, inner connection, and/or commonality, between the different characters.

_(“... _Fuckin’ **FAG**! Ya thought I wouldn’t know? Didja? I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN! So **Stupid**! You always bin’ so goddamn fuckin’ **STUPID**_ !,” the memory of a deep voice from long ago... his, his... father’s voice… venomously reminded him.)  
  
A shudder ran through him. He bit his lip. **Hard.** Grif mumbled in his sleep, and pulled him closer, held him tighter... But, he wanted to stay... (“ _You... That faggot!... Always bin’ too pretty, ya little fucker!_...”)... Oh God, oh God, yeah, he was-he was gonna go... He was going!... He would go... but... but, maybe... maybe he should tell Grif first?...  
  
Grif always had a weird thing about expecting to know where he was all the damn time... Yes. That was the right thing to do.  
  
And... maybe... somewhere deep inside... he hoped that despite how completely fucking hopeless he was… Grif would tell him to stay…_  


  
Simmons closed his eyes, again. Burrowed closer, deeper into Grif’s warmth. Just… just one more minute…  
  
He felt… so sad… Why was it wrong?... _Was_ it wrong? He couldn’t- He couldn’t think straight enough (But, then, hadn’t that _always_ been his problem?), at the moment, with the alcohol still in his system to figure it out. He just had to… to do what was expected of him. What he had always been told…  
  
But, uh, oh yes, gotta, um, tell Grif first. Be “polite” an’ shit, right? Of course, of course. Not that that was his go-to setting or anything, but, um… first time for everything, right? Heh. Sure. And, if Grif said it was- was okay, them being to-together like… that it wasn’t bad… I, mean, what the hell did  he know, but… maybe, maybe he _did_ know…  
  
“Grif?,” Simmons shook him lightly.  
  
No response. He may as well have _thought_ of doing it rather than waste the physical energy required to even attempt…  
  
Oh great! Now, he was suddenly _thinking like Grif_.  
  
But… it was…  so nice to be like… Grif was holding him so tight… You’d think he actually… c-cared, or something… Like how it’d seemed in Basic before… Regardless, Simmons had to try. Even not, um, entirely sober, he knew. He had to try to Do. What. Was. Expected. At least, a _token_ attempt at being, you know, not… not “different”…  
  
Simmons tried to move back, to sit up, so he could try, again. But, Grif’s arms just banded even tighter around him. And… he murmured something.  
  
Huh? Simmons was still for a second, trying to decipher what he’d said. What it had _looked_ like he said, because he’d said it so softly… Baby… Olive Juice… What the fuck? What the hell was _that_? Some food… drink… condiment… thing?  
  
Fuckin’ Grif. Such a one track mind. There Simmons was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of them even being like… like _that_ , at all, and Simmons had apparently _passed out_ on him for Christ’s sake, and, uggghhh, his _head_ … He was still feeling weird and woozy, and there’s Grif… just dreaming about f’n **food**. As per usual. Must be goddamn real nice to just live the stereotype...  
  
Simmons shook him a bit roughly this time, even kinda smacked his chest. Although, honestly, not very hard. But, it was the smack that did it. Brought him up out of his slumber.  
  
Grif’s eyes flashed open. And, for a split second, so quick that Simmons wasn’t sure if he’d even really seen it, or just imagined it, the Hawaiian’s expression was very dark. But, then, obviously feeling the weight on his chest, Grif looked down into Simmons upturned face, focused in, and seemed to actually _see_ him… and that look, that strange almost frightening look, that you would never even _think_ to see on Grif’s face in the first place, was gone. As though it had never been there, at all.  
  
And, Grif smiled, just the tiniest bit, at the redhead, and, softly, said, “Hey.”  
  
Simmons scowled at him, and Grif smiled a little more, because it was such a _Simmons’_ look. Such a ( His) Simmons’ _scowl_.  
  
“You fell asleep, dumbass,” Simmons informed him, as if he, or, uh, his “other half”, hadn’t apparently done the same. But, Simmons was unaware of this. Unaware that Richard had been involved in any of this. It was wiped clean. Pushed back. Blank.  
  
Grif opened his mouth. But, then, shut it, again, without saying anything. Practically a gold star moment for him! He had been going to say, “Wasn’t that the plan?” Buuut… fuck it.  
  
Simmons could be such a little amnesiac, sometimes, after an AssholeSimmons episode. Although, shit, at the moment, Grif kinda felt… well, fuck, _bad_ about thinking of him, er, uh…. _Simmons_ , that is, when he was his AssholeSimmons self as… as, an **Asshole**. Not after he’d been so, so different. It was probably the first time since Basic when Grif had realized that this pretty boy son of a bitch had this potentially violent, aggressive as fuck side that could just pop outta seemingly nowhere, that Grif had seen that side of him not be… Asshole-ish.  
  
Fuck… he didn’t know…  
  
He let go of Simmons, just for a second, to stretch. To try to wake up a little bit more.  
  
And, he immediately regretted it when Simmons put both hands onto his chest- ok, well… that part was alright-, and levered himself up, so he could sit up… Come On! Couldn’t he quit being so goddamn wishy-washy, or whatever the hell?  
  
Grif had hardly had the thought before Simmons actually gave him a real reason to have had it in the first place.  
  
“So, uh… ya know… sorry, I guess… for waking you up,” Simmons muttered, not looking at him. Looking down at his hands.  
  
Grif rolled his shoulder until he heard a little crack, and stifling a yawn, replied calmly, “Nah, it’s cool. I’m glad you did.”  
  
Simmons blinked, and, then, squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Grif… Grif, so didn’t say that, he thought. Why would he ever…  What would he _ever_ want to do more than sleep? Simmons figured he had to have hallucinated, or misheard him. It was, uh, really the only thing that made sense.  
  
“So, anyway,” the redhead continued, as if Grif hadn’t spoken, although he was now looking at his lips, refusing to meet his eyes, “… I was gonna go…”  
  
Please, don’t let me go, the redhead thought. I don’t _want_ to go. What’s making me _do_ this? They. Aren’t. Here. They c-can’t **make** me do, or not do, anything, anymore. But… b-but… Oh, mother fuck, I’m so messed up.  
  
Grif frowned at him, but didn’t say anything. Oh, he _thought_ a lot of things… The topmost being: What were you one of those pussy kids that had ta’ call _mommy_ to come pick you up in the middle of the fuckin’ night, cause you couldn’t sleep anywhere, but your own damn bed?... He thought… What’s your goddamn game, Simmons?... And, he thought… he couldn’t fucking _help_ it, and he, he couldn’t freaking  believe it, but he thought … Don’t leave. Stay with me… Fuck it. Come back home with me when we get out of this shithole…  
  
And, the thing that really sucked? With how Simmons was acting, right then, anyway? Was that those last two?… Those were the ones that it felt like, with his goddamn chick feelings n’ all, that he actually really meant.  
  
But, somehow, it was like when he really needed it to… his mouth just wouldn’t work.  
  
Simmons looked back down.  
  
“Okay, alright…,” he said so, so softly that Grif barely heard him, “Well, umm, I know you were probably just… bored n’ stuff… but, uhm, thanks… for being… n-nice… to me today…”  
  
Grif’s eye twitched in a very Simmons-like fashion, and a small grunt escaped him. Which the redhead, hearing him, but not looking at him, apparently, took as an affirmation that that really _was_ all this was. All this had been.  
  
And, Simmons closed his eyes, and nodded to himself. Like he’d known. He… He’d known…  
  
Grif, for once, really _was_ feeling a little speechless. Or, maybe there were just too many goddamn thoughts ping-ponging through his head at the same time. What the fuck did a guy have to do to get through to this son of a bitch?  
  
Grif, honestly, felt like really bitching him out. 'Just bored'? 'Being  nice'? Bitch, I’m trying to hook up with you here, you idiot! (Simmons’ insecurity regarding what Grif’s intentions were, had caused Grif to completely forget that he’d been kinda semi-hiding them even from himself half the night.) Like _really_ hook up, get it, dumbass? If I was just “bored”, and wanted to entertain myself to pass the goddamn time… Oh, you son of a bitch…  
  
Simmons was shifting about. Obviously, getting ready to get up…  
  
This is what I get…  
  
Simmons turned a bit, got his little hair tie off the bunkside drawer.  
  
This is what I get for trying to be a goddamn decent mother fu-  
  
“Don’t,” Grif ground out, as Simmons started to pull his hair back, to retain that normalcy, that constriction. Grif reached out, and took the hair tie right out of his hand, and set it back down on the bunkside drawer.  
  
Simmons looked at him, obviously still so very unsure. Not knowing what to do. Needing, truly needing, at this of all moments to be told what to do, because… he thought he was _supposed_ to go, he’s going to go, he HAS to go. He knew what was “right”, after all. He knew how “evil”, and “cursed” he was to be a temptation for other boys with his too “disgustingly pretty” looks that he hates so much, sometimes… He knows, but he doesn’t know…  
  
He was so confused…  
  
Again, Grif, not very eloquent, but to the point said, “Don’t.”  
  
He said it a little more assuredly that time. It wasn’t like he was actually going to physically keep Simmons from going if he really wanted to go, but… Grif knew Simmons ( _This_ Simmons. The one he secretly, very secretly, thought of as _his_ Simmons.), and once Grif’s goddamn out of control fear of abandonment bullshit had chilled the fuck out, and let him think a bit more clearly, Grif knew that Simmons didn’t really want to go (This was Simmons. If he really wanted to go, he would’ve already been long gone.), but he needed to be  told he could stay. That Grif _wanted_ him to stay. It, probably, seemed a little chickish, and overdramatic, but this shit, dealing with being with a guy, dealing with _wanting_ to be with a guy, clearly, wasn’t easy for him.  
  
Despite Grif _knowing_ this, despite the words Simmons likely really needed to hear being right on the tip of his tongue, all he could say was, “Don’t”.  
  
And, thank Christ, it seemed to be enough.  
  
Simmons quietly laid back down beside him, so that they were side by side on that much too small bed.  
  
And, for a while, they both just stared at the ceiling as if its plastic sticker stars held the answers to newfound questions.  
  
Finally, as if for something to say, Simmons mumbled, “…You, uh, said this weird thing… ‘Olive Juice’… when I was trying to wake you up… I guess, when I really think about it… it was kinda funny. Heh. Ya know. You, and your goddamn one track mind…”  
  
Grif’s nose scrunched up in thought. What? Why did that sound so familiar? He mouthed the words to himself, literally, _one_ time, and it hit him…  
  


❃ A Few Years Earlier: Dexter  & Kaikaina Grif Residence ❃ 

“Dex, Dexxxxx!”

“What is it now, Kai?,” her brother sighed, not looking up from the pile of mail he was sorting through, “I thought Kira was watch-, uh… I thought you were gonna go across the hall, and do girl shit with Kira.”

“I can’t! She’s at her stupid college *Mature Blowing Raspberries Noises*, and she wouldn’t let me go. But, I don’t wanna go, _anyways_ , cause she said this teacher, or ‘professor’, or whatever, is _super_ old, and, sometimes, he _drops his teeth in his coffee_ , and tries to tongue it out, and ewww, weird, right? I, mean, tongueing stuff is cool to get a taste, but… So, can I go to the mall?”

“Sis, I told you, earlier, I can’t- Wait… what?... tongue-… Kai! You quit that! You’re a freaking _kid_. Act like one! And, I can’t take you to the mall, right now. Later, right?... And, let’s go chill at the beach, instead. Get some night surfing in. *Sigh* I need to chill the hell out before my head explodes… But, dammit, I gotta figure out these stupid bills first. Shit, it’s really giving me a frickin’ headache…”

“Yeah, yeah. BORING… Not the surfing! The biIls!... And, hey, hey, Bro!,” she called, trying to regain his attention, again.

But, he was already frowning thoughtfully back at the small pile of bills (He was always grouchy when he had to do this kind of thing.), musing almost inaudibly to himself, “Shit, it _is_ better with mo- that woman gone. Not just cause… Just less expensive without havin’ to carry her  junkie ass…”

He was trying to put the bills in order of importance –pay now, or it’ll go delinquent, pay next week, only a small late fee, pay next month, they’re cool- when his Sister insisted, “I wanna show you something… Brooo, look at meeee.”  
  
He glanced up at her, his brows furrowed in frustration, “Kai, dammit! You know I _hate_ doing this shit, and you’re not supposed to screw with me when I’m doing it! What if I mess some crap up? We can’t draw any freaking extra attention to ourselves-“  
  
And, the dark-haired excitable girl mouthed something to him. Twice. Because it didn’t seem like he’d caught it the first time.  
  
His expression cleared. “Love you, too, Sis. Now, listen-”  
  
“Ha-Ha!,” she laughed, and danced around like an idiot, shaking her tush, “I got you, you dork! I actually said, ‘Olive Juice’. Isn’t that the funniest trick you ever heard? I heard those second graders in the apartment down the hall talking about it.”  
  
He sighed, again, although, more forlornly this time, “Of course. _Of. Course._ You heard it from the **second graders** … Kai, honestly, that’s kinda stupid- when you’re _fourteen_ …”  
  
She, like the mature fourteen-year old she _totally_ was (Dex just didn’t get it, cause he was a seventeen year old ol’ GEEZER. Gross.), stuck her tongue out at him, completely unaffected, “Ah, you’re just sad, cause I got you good! Nailed your ass _real_ good and **hard**!”  
  
“What the fu- son of a-,” the poor guy sputtered, “SISTER! What in the fuck did I tell you about saying that kind of- Do you even hear the shit you say? I can’t- oh God, I give up. And, you know what? I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Olive Juice’… yeah, I don’t think that’s even really a thing.”  
  
“Hey, Bro, that’s not the joke, _duuuhhh_ , buuut… you’d be surprised at the juices you can get outta things if you rub ‘em just right… I’m gonna go get ready for the beach!,” the teenager informed him, and, then, she flounced off to her bedroom.  
  
“*Sigh* Yeah, right… Wait, what?! Kai! Kai, you get your butt back here! I wanna talk to you!... Are you ignoring me, you damn brat?... Son of a bitch… ‘Juices’. _Uggghhh_ … Jesus Christ…”  
  


❃❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ 

Ho-ly Fuck. That old goddamn stupid 'Saying Olive Juice looks like saying I love you' gag Sister told him about, in her round about bratty-ass way.

He couldn’t even fucking **believe** it… Had he _actually_ told the kissass he _loved him_ when he was half-asleep? Cause, honestly, just, uh, being fucking real with himself, and _just_ himself, for a second? That made a lot more sense than him saying the other thing. And, knowing him, that’d probably be the way he’d do it, too, considering he spent so much of his life in a half-doze… Fuuuck. It was the kind of thing that could only happen to him.

Ah, shit. And, then, Simmons hears ‘Olive Juice’, like the trick, the ‘joke’ worked backwards, and even though that makes little to no sense at all, he just goes with it, cause (Grif, literally, _heard_ this next thought in Simmons voice, because, well, it’s not like the kissass hadn’t actually said it before…), “Hey, you know Grif, he’s a fucking pig.”

Goddammit.

Simmons laughed a little, drawing the Hawaiian’s gaze back to him, and he said, nearly mirroring what Grif had said to Kai those few years back, “Grif, I don’t think that’s even really a thing.”

And, Grif being pretty damn sure of what he must’ve really said, cause he sure as fuck didn’t say that dumbass juice thing, couldn’t help but answer back, trailing off at the end, “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m starting to think it’s probably… been a thing…”

Simmons wrinkled his nose at the ceiling in thought, “… Huh?”

Oh shit. It’s now, or never… Now or nev-… or how ‘bout later? Yes, fuck yes, later’s good. Damn good. They hadn’t even fucking _kissed_ , yet, for fuck’s sake! I, mean, sure, they’d been together (Not, _together_ together, exactly. Although, sometimes -a lot of the times-, it, their deal, or whatever, kinda veered into territory that made no sense for “just” teammates, or even friends…), practically joined at the hip day in and day out, and had been for what seemed like forever, sometimes, (And, the time they were separated after Basic fuckin’ sucked. Even before the bad thing… even before… When it was just boring, and lonely instead of… _No_.  Not. Now. Not ever.) but…

Fuck. Simmons was looking super _thoughtful_. Man, if he hadn’t had some drinks he’d already be squeaking, 'Grif! Y-You lo-love me?! But, we’re both GUYS!'

Okay. Activate Damage Control.

“Uh… musta been dreaming about Italian food…”

Simmons scoffed, grinning slightly, “Fatass. So predictable.”

Grif chuckled, maybe a tad nervously, “Heh-heh, yeah, right.”

Grif really couldn’t believe it. At that moment, all he could think of was how, now, his mouth was trying to fuck him over, even, in his _SLEEP_. His sleep, bitches! That fucker really had a mind of its own, sometimes, and Grif had to yell at it. Dipshit! You don’t blurt out "I love you’s" to people you haven’t even pecked on the goddamn cheek! Shame on you! How stupid are you! Mother fuck, this is some bull-  
  
And, then, Simmons blew his frickin’ mind.  
  
The whole 'Grif’s just his typical fatass self', and not a pathetic love-sick dog, having been re-established… Alright, Grif didn’t really know if that’s how Simmons saw it, but he was feeling a little whacked out at the idea that he had revealed the extent of his stupid chick feelings, maybe not to _Simmons_ , but to **himself**.  
  
And, there the kissass was sort of humming to himself, while Grif was busy trying to pinpoint _when_ this shit had gone terminal, and Simmons was murmuring, while still humming, counting the faintly luminescent stars, that Sister had sent him in Basic, that were supposed to _glow_ , but, whatever the fuck, stuck up on Grif’s ceiling. Obviously, just chilling out with whatever buzz he had left.  
  
And, then… Simmons fell silent. And, he slowly turned onto his side to face the man beside him. His lips just barely touching, and tickling Grif’s ear, causing the Hawaiian to completely lose track of whatever he’d been thinking…  
  
“Maybe…,” the redhead barely whispered it. Barely breathed it.  
  
Grif had to swallow before answering. Fuck, this son of a bitch got him worked up. You’d think _he_ was the virgin here.  
  
“…Yeah?”  
  
Simmons summoned all his courage. In all honesty? He was kind of surprised he had found any in the first place when it came to this stuff.  
  
“… Maybe… ,” the redhead continued in the same tone, “if you find me another beer… I’ll actually be drunk enough to really kiss you…”  
  
Holy fuck. Was he smooth, or what? And, he didn’t even stutter. Okay, maybe he paused a lot, but… if this was what booze could do for him, he needed more of it.  
  
Grif was silent for a moment. Not too long. But, just sort of _absorbing_ that…  
  
And, then, he snorted, “ _Nice_ , Simmons. What a fuckin’ charmer… You asshole… I’m only good enough for you if you have _beer goggles_ on, huh? I didn’t even know you _knew_ about that shit, man…”  
  
Simmons jerked back. What? Holy fuck! He was NOT smooth. Even when he didn’t stutter! Booze was bad!  
  
“Hey! That’s not what I… It’s just… y-you’re a-a…,” Simmons started sputtering his ass off, “…a, ya know…”  
  
ANOTHER DUDE, DUMBASS.  
  
“What? A totally fuckin’ _awesome_ dude? I already **know** that, Simmons. And, anyway, who says I wanna kiss _you_?,” Grif tried some bravado on for size, and it, honestly, didn’t fit very well at the moment.  
  
“Oh… I-I… you don’t?,” Simmons sounded very unsure. Had he read everything wrong?  
  
Or, was Grif just being Grif? An asshole. That was… that was always a possibility…  
  
It was a good thing that Simmons was still, somehow, a little blitzed on practically nothing… not as bad, but… otherwise? He would’ve been pissed as _fuck_ , rather than confused.  
  
Grif saw Simmons trying to decide how offended to be, and he grinned up at the ceiling. I, mean, he HAD to fuck with him a little bit. It was practically _mandatory_ after that ‘If I’m more drunk, maybe, _then_ , I’ll make out with you’ crap… This guy… Grif knew what he really meant, but still… it was a hell of a thing to hear after you’d _just_ realized- Whelp, he just  had to give him some shit for that. It was only fair.  
  
And, Grif couldn’t _quite_ keep the smile out of his voice when he asked the redhead, “Well, what do I get outta it?”  
  
“Uhhh… you get to… _k-kiss_ … _me_ ,” Simmons voice raised a few octaves on the last two words, and Grif thought absently that he bet the guy really _was_ a good singer. Donut had gone by the showers in the middle of the night once… Great falsetto, apparently.  
  
“ _Hmmm_ … Kiss you, huh?...,” Grif continued in the same amused, thoughtful tone, “What else you got?”  
  
“GRIF!,” SquawkySimmons squawked his pretty little face off.  
  
“What? I’m _greedy_ Simmons. You _know_ that. So?,” Grif rolled onto his side so he was facing the redhead, whose body was still turned toward him, “Wanna make a deal?”  
  
Simmons looked stunned, all over again, at their sudden extreme nearness. The bunk was just a twin size, after all, as barracks beds tended to be, and between the two of them, when they laid like that… they were just… very close. Not one of them hovering over, or draped half-over the other… but facing each other. Side by side.  
  
“What-What do you want?,” Simmons managed to ask, beginning to blush.  
  
Oooh, that’s a _dangerous_ question, little virgin, Grif thought, but he  behaved himself… mostly.  
  
“You know, Simmons, I might just have another couple beers stashed somewhere…”  
  
“Real-Really?,” Simmons eyes shone just a little too bright, and Grif had a moment to hope that he was just wanting a little more liquid courage, before he actually had the _weirdest_ flash. It felt like a goddamn _premonition_ of their future together, and he didn’t even think he believed in that crap. Regardless, he thought, Oh, you’re gonna be  trouble, aren’t you?  
  
But, he pushed the thought away. Focused on that moment, and very flippantly, he replied, “Yeah, _really_. You didn’t think I’d be so **stupid** -”  
  
Simmons flinched just the tiniest bit, and a funny little noise like a tiny, tiny whine escaped his throat.  
  
It shut Grif up instantly. And, he remembered… Simmons didn’t like, couldn’t _handle_ , being called “stupid” or “crazy”… Oh, fuck! That was why he’d got weird after the “Oreo Snack Facts”… Grif had said it was “ _stupid_ ” funny that he knew all that when it wasn’t even his own favorite… Fuck. But, he hadn’t been calling him stupid… But… Grif understood how some shit set you the fuck off, even when you told yourself it shouldn’t… Shit. Yeah, he got it. But, he was too much of a prick to pay attention, and, then, he just up, and did it, again. Great. Fuckin’ great.  
  
“Dude, me, I said. Not you, baby, not _you_ …”  
  
Oh, he was fucking this up. And, now, he was calling Simmons “Dude”, and “Baby” in the same sentence. Grif really didn’t know how someone with such a big mouth could always seem to say the wrong things. Or, hell, maybe that was just how it worked.  
  
So, he did what he knew. He looped his left arm around Simmons’ waist. His right one slipping under his neck, again.  
  
Comfortably. Calmly. No pressure. He pulled him just a little closer. Simmons forearms, and hands, resting on Grif’s chest.  
  
Entangling their legs. The redhead’s freaking freezing feet wrapped in-between, and under, Grif’s calves.  
  
Simmons looked a bit surprised, but, then, he sighed, and peaceably enough acquiesced to Grif maneuvering his body.  
  
Simmons was, uh, getting a little dreamy-eyed… Er, uh, sleepy! Sleepy-eyed. He couldn’t help but think… It’s like official Real Cuddling 101, Simmons. The other stuff was just practice. Did you bring your notebook?  
  
Always the kissass. With the unstoppable nerd tendencies…  
  
Grif was just… *Sigh*… He didn’t know. Being like that with him? It relaxed him. God knows why. It was just so fricking _calming_ for some reason. Like puzzle pieces clicking into place…  
  
Ah crap, and he did _not_ think some cheesy-ass shit like that. It was the booze. (Even, though, especially for him, he hadn’t had that much, at all…) Yeah, totally the booze. It made him mellow, and laid-back…  
  
And, Grif noticed the trippiest thing about Simmons. That, somehow, maybe with all the teasing, and bickering n’ shit, he hadn’t noticed before.  
  
While he was touching him in that particular way. Relaxed. Calm. Just chill. Simmons, actually, picked up on it, and fell, was almost _lulled_ , into the same chill, tranquil state of mind.  
  
It was kind of freaky to think how easily Simmons could be led if someone, the wrong person, knew… But, who would know, but him? (And, he was gonna keep it that way.)  
  
With Simmons calm, and curled up with him, Grif tried, again. Speaking evenly, lowly, “I wouldn’t keep all my “contraband” stashed in one place, man. That’d be s-”  
  
Son of a bitch! He’d almost said it, _again_. He really **was** a dumbass.  
  
“-such a bad idea,” he corrected himself.  
  
Well hell, he did have to hand it to himself, though. His mouth might get him into trouble, sometimes, but it could get him out of it pretty well, too, when it really counted.  
  
Simmons was just watching him. Looking kinda mellow, and like he’d lost track of what was going on. (Again.) Grif wasn’t sure he was even _listening_ to him, anymore.  
  
“Simmons?... Dude? Are you gonna pass out?,” Grif asked, sounding a bit concerned, as he absently rubbed the redhead’s neck.  
  
“… _Hmmm_?,” Simmons mumbled, questioningly.  
  
“Ah, man… shit…,” Grif sighed, “I thought you were sobering up…”  
  
“… Hm- W-What, now? I _am_ sober,” Simmons insisted.  
  
Grif hummed back at him, “ _Hmmm_ … Yeah, you’re **real** convincing… What were we talking about, then, huh?”  
  
Simmons squinted at him, and was silent, distracting Grif by leisurely rubbing one of his slowly warming feet up and down in-between Grif’s calves…  
  
A long moment of silence.  
  
“… _MAKING A DEAL_!,” Simmons, obviously very goddamn proud of himself, called out, very suddenly, and  very loudly, startling the shit outta Grif who was so focused on the redhead’s foot rubbing against him that he had basically become hyper-aware, and sensitive to each place their bare skin touched…  
  
Having been shocked out of his pleasure-stupor, Grif gasped out, “ _Simmons!_ Jesus! Shut- Just _Shhh_! Tell the whole damn canyon why don’t you! Fffuck.”  
  
“Yeah. Deals n’ stuff,” Simmons smirked, obviously still very pleased with himself, “See? I remember things just _fine_.”  
  
Simmons nodded to himself decisively.  
  
“You seemed fine a second ago! What in the fuck, Simmons?,” Grif scowled at him.  
  
Simmons opened his big, pretty green eyes wide trying to look more sober. And, only succeeded in looking like a goddamn adorable chibi. “I _am_ fine, dammit. I am _very , super_ fine,” he asserted.  
  
Grif just laughed, “Oh, fuckin’ **great**. Now, you’re being goddamn arrogant!”  
  
Simmons looked lost.  
  
“Arr-… What?”  
  
“Ah shit… You’re on the downswing, but you’re still fucked up,” Grif muttered, “ *Sigh* Pfft… I give up for now.”  
  
“No. No, don’t,” Simmons replied quickly, “I know. The deal, right?”  
  
Grif blew out a breath, “Huh. Seriously, baby? At this point? I’m fuckin’ surprised you even remember us talkin’ about that.”  
  
Ah, fuck. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t stop calling him it. Couldn’t fuckin’ _help_ it. It was like there they were, laying together, touching each other, and they hadn’t slept together (Well, _technically_ they had, but like in the _biblical_ lay down, and sleep together way? Nope.), they hadn’t even _kissed_ , for God’s sake, and, yet… it felt like… oh, fuck… a bunch of sappy stuff. Like they’d been together forever, or some… something.  
  
Simmons must’ve heard, or actually registered, what Grif had called him this time because he blushed. Red Team Blushed all _over_ this bitch.  
  
Well, he actually _had_ noticed earlier when he was having his AssholeSim-, or fuck, Grif didn’t want to think of him, or, er,  Simmons that way when he’d been… the way he’d been… So… OtherSimmons, then… Yeah, but, anyway, Simmons wasn’t really _Simmons_ (His Simmons) when he was OtherSimmons, so, uhm… Grif had thoroughly confused himself.  
  
Simmons conveniently, and accidently, distracted him from his thoughts by licking his lips. And, Grif’s eyes were once again drawn to that so appealing mouth.  
  
And, maybe, just maybe, the alcohol actually _had_ emboldened Simmons to some degree, and not completely derailed him because, although, he stared into the red panda on Grif’s shirts eyes rather than the other man’s, he murmured nervously, a little stuttery, “Uh… you… uhm… r-remember… back on, um, earth?”  
  
Grif arched a dark brow at him, and answered slowly, like he had no clue where the redhead was going with this –because he didn’t-, “Yeeeesss?”  
  
Simmons nodded at the panda, “Um, okay. So, ya know, I heard that if, uh… sometimes a… a store would, er, give stuff… to… try?...”  
  
Grif was so fucking lost. What was he talking about stores for? He’d have to be stone cold sober… What _was_ that beer, anyway? Some kinda import? But, then, everything was in the Gulch. He needed to check the alcohol content. He didn’t think he should be feeling hardly anything, _at all_. And, Simmons? He was… well…  
  
Simmons glanced up at him from his deep heart to heart with the panda, and their eyes, his and Grif’s, focused in on each other, again.  
  
And, Simmons thought… He would name the panda… Randy Pandy… C-cause he was red? And, a panda. Like red panda=Randy. Not Randy, like, ya know, _raaandy_. Heheh… Uhhh…  
  
What the fuck was that nerd thinking? They were just staring at each other, and Simmons was blushing like a fire truck. Okay, screw this.  
  
“Just say it,” Grif demanded.  
  
And amazingly, Simmons obeyed (But, then, sometimes? When they were alone… he could be very good at that… Not like THAT… Not, _yet_.).  
  
Simmons thinking it sounded kinda dumb, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it, like _really_ say it, so he asked, shyly, “Um… you… like samples… of stuff?”  
  
“What does that-,” Grif answered back, immediately, only to break off as it hit him…  
  
… Ohhh… Oh, yes, baby. _Now_ , they were getting somewhere. He wanted _all_ Simmons' _samples_.  
  
That was what he  thought, but, like a complete irrepressible prick, he **said** , “I dunno… Maybe… Depends what the sample’s of…”  
  
Mother Fuck. He was such an asshole. It had to be genetic. It was moments like these that Grif wondered who his real father _really_ was, other than some Haole guy with “beautiful blue eyes” that had visited his mo- that woman one time…  
  
Simmons looked like all the wind had been blown out of his sails. Like he just simply couldn’t  possibly…  
  
He was, somehow, drunk enough to embarrass himself, and Grif was going to be an asshole about it. Why? And, _why_ had he expected anything different? He didn’t know if he should cry (Like a fucking girl.), or slap the mother fucker (Like a fucking girl.). He felt his left eye twitch, and, oh God, Richard must have been so goddamn _out of it_ to be checked out of all this…  
  
“Simmons?,” Grif asked carefully.  
  
“ **What**?,” Simmons’ reply was venomous.  
  
“Wanna shake on it?... I, mean, if you make a deal, isn’t that like proper protocol, or some crap?” Look. He may be lazy. But, his mind could be f’n _quick_. Really can’t stress that enough. That’s how he came up with all that snide shit on the fly. And, how he got his ass outta the trouble his mouth got him into.  
  
As Grif had hoped, that _protocol_ bullshit caught Simmons' attention real quick. Hmph. Kissass forgot he was even pissed. (Thank fuckin’ _God_. Grif should shed a goddamn manly as fuck tear he was so relieved. He shouldn’t have to pay the consequences for his outta control, rampant prick of a mouth. That just wasn’t  fair.)  
  
Simmons just stared at him. As if Grif had caught his attention, but, now, Simmons had lost track of the conversation, again...  
  
Ah, Christ... Simmons’ eyes were fucking _captivating_ (Grif didn’t think he’d ever even thought that kind of weird shit before. Shit, that really _was_ “gay”.). It pissed him off. So big, and green, with those ridiculously long lashes. Those, maybe a little _too_ perfectly arched for a guy, red eyebrows (You’d almost think he plucked, or “shaped”, them, or something... _Naaah_.) that matched his hair to frickin’ perfection.  
  
It seemed like cheating. Why should he get some unfair upper-hand advantage, goddammit?!  
  
The son of a bitch could _never_ know how hot Grif thought he was. Who knows what manipulative pretty boy shit he might pull...  
  
Those large green eyes… were staring at him... Oh, fuck.  
  
“Hey,” Grif muttered, his mouth running away from him, again. Not surprising considering that seemed to be the theme of the night, “Quit tryin’ to mesmerize me with those goddamn doll’s eyes, you asshole...”  
  
Simmons impossibly large, pretty eyes blinked slowly at him.  
  
“Why would I... doll’s eyes?,” the redhead sounded impossibly confused.  
  
Ah, dammit. Might as well just... fuck. So Grif said it.  
  
“So you gonna kiss me?...” Grif asked. And he thought, Or just keep acting like an escaped mental patient?... _Did I actually just think that?_ Oh, man, I fuckin’ suck. That was **bad**. “Or what?,” he decided to end the question off with something a little less extremely fucked, instead.  
  
Simmons looked away from his eyes. Down. Making eye contact with Grif’s red panda -Oh shit.(Flustered Simmons up in here.) _On his shirt._ That is sooo not a nickname for a, uh, ar-aroused, e-engorged part of a man’s... body... Although, it _could_ be... Fuck!-  
  
“...Um, I... I s-still d-don’t,” the redhead was blushing, and stammering like mad, “even know... If you w-want... do you?... to...” And, how to? Exactly? I mean, it’s not rocket science, but... Mother fuck, he was too old to be this naïve. Whoa, his head was kinda swimmy... Didn’t most people first start doing this back in their teens? Or, sometimes _younger_. Like how... Wait. Was it like muscle memory? Would he know what to do because Richard, and Jimmy had... had a thing, before Jimmy got pulled out of the school and, then,... and... then... “  
  
Before Simmons could start getting too anxious, or start remembering things he shouldn’t, thus, bringing a very exhausted, and sure to be pissed off, Richard back up to the forefront, and up out of -elsewhere- his slumber, Grif drew his attention back. He slid his hand up the very slight curve of the redhead’s hip, up his side… until, without ever losing physical contact, his hand sunk into that red hair that, somehow, much like the redhead’s eyes, was both bright, and deep.  
  
“Do I gotta do everything around here? You son’s a bitches are all so goddamn lazy,” Grif snickered as he slowly pulled him closer. His mouth smirked, but his overall expression _may_ have turned a bit tender.  
  
Simmons sounded way too nervous to be offended, “That’s... coming from you, that’s- And, I think it’s p-perfectly ac-acceptable to want t-to know-“  
  
They were so close now. Mere inches apart. And, then... no inches. Bodies nearly flush against each other. Legs still entwined.  
  
“ _Shhh_...,” Grif whispered against his lips, “Just shut the hell up, Simmons… and I’ll tell you...”  
  
If Simmons had been completely sober, the quiet, _hungry_ whine that escaped him would have **humiliated** him.  
  
It just urged Grif on.  
  
And, the words practically rumbled out of his throat. Sounding somewhere in the range between a grumbly growl (He didn’t even know he could sound that way. Kissass must be driving him frickin’ crazy.), and a placating purr, “Yes. Yes, I wanna taste you.”  
  
And, well, fuck. Okay, fine. He saw everything in terms of f’n food. So sue him! But Simmons had basically _offered_ himself on a silver platter (Ooooh, fuck… Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here…) as a “sample”... _Mmmm_... Can’t say the kissass didn’t know how to speak his language... Well, the one that really counts...  
  
And, him wanting a taste of this little kissass nerd? When had it _not_ been true?  
  
Just… just a taste…  
  
But, Grif had _always_ had a problem with restraint when something (Or someone, in this case.) made him hungry...  
  
Grif’s lips had hardly brushed against Simmons’, once, twice, three times, when the light flick of his tongue against the redhead’s lower lip caused Simmons’ mouth to open, his lips to part in a quiet gasp, and his eyes to blink as if in surprise, before drifting shut, again.  
  
Ah, just as planned.  
  
And, Grif’s tongue slipped in.  
  
Simmons was so shocked (Although, hadn’t he sort of _asked_ for this?), that at first he didn’t really participate, at all. He simply lay there in a daze, as Grif explored him. _Claimed_ him. It was really the only way to describe... It was like he was memorizing him. Committing sunshine to mind for a rainy day...  
  
He did this for longer than you’d think. Probably, almost a damn minute. Which when you stop to think about it, with Simmons so still, yet, clutching onto his shoulders, just soaking sensation in with little more than a nearly inaudible hum that Grif could taste on his tongue... that could nearly have been an eternity.  
  
Simmons' lips were so soft, his body so pliant, so yielding in the circle of his arms, and, oh mother of fucking God, how long... how long had he wanted this? And, holy hell, he _could_ taste a hint of peanut butter, and chocolate… _Mmmm_...  
  
Grif did this, _tasted_ this little pretty boy nerd, until he got tired of playing (of _memorizing_ ) by himself, and his fingers tightened in Simmons’ hair. He licked harder at the roof of Simmons’ mouth where he had last seemed to get some small response from the dazed redhead, and, oh my God, it seemed like it _tickled_ him. Simmons squirmed a little, and made a funny noise into Grif’s mouth (It _almost_ sounded like a giggle, for Christ’s sake.). And, Grif felt Simmons' lips turn up a bit at the corners, triggering him to do the same, because Jesus Christ, the son of a bitch was _smiling_ with Grif’s tongue in his mouth. I mean, come on! Who could resist that shit?  
  
And, finally, Simmons' tongue tentatively touched his... He pretty much mirrored any movement Grif made. And, he was so freaking unsure, and he didn’t seem to know what to do... And fuck, in some unknowable way, it only made it better.  
  
Thank God, they’d had some drinks, even if it hadn’t been much for the Hawaiian man, but it had to have mellowed Grif out a little bit, because, otherwise, shit, he was pretty sure, hell, _damn_ sure, that he would have had this pretty son of a bitch naked, and under him at that point. He may have been “lazy” (He liked to tell himself he was just “saving up energy for the good shit”.), but he was, also, a very _hungry_ person. And, while, he wanted that… Simmons… naked… underneath him… _Oh fuck_. If his hardening from just _kissing_ , and thinking about it, dick, that he was continuously having to try to keep from touching the kissass, -which was a feat, lemme tell you- had anything to say about it… he wanted it so goddamn **bad** … but, this dude was… different. Grif _had_ to take it a little slow. Had he thought that a hundred times? Well, fuck. He had to keep reminding himself… It wasn’t JUST how inexperienced the dude was. It was that despite all Simmons belief in the “sciences”, Grif still had to get him used to the idea that a bolt of lightning from the freaking heavens wasn’t gonna fry both their asses for doing any of this, at all…  
  
Finally, Grif pulled slightly away, trailing his lips teasingly down Simmons’ jaw, down his neck... Fuck, he just wanted to eat him all up. But, they did, suddenly, have a little problem…  
  
“Hey, Kissass…,” Grif’s voice was soft, and his lips were curved against the redhead’s pale throat. Had those words coming out of Grif’s mouth ever sounded so fucking _loving_ before? Maybe so, and Simmons just hadn’t been listening…, “You gotta breathe.”  
  
Simmons sharply inhaled, and, then, breathed out, “ _Oh_ ,” he exhaled with the word. A bit startled that at some point he had kind of… forgotten… that? Grif, _Grif_ , had caused him to forget to **breathe**. Whoa… The thought flinted through his mind that Grif… Grif was MUCH better than him at something…  
  
And, that thought? Oh, it caused the perfectionist kissass in him to twitch, and grumble.  
  
Without further thought into the matter, the redhead found himself demanding, “Let me try, again. I don’t think I did it right.”  
  
Grif was _so_ not going to remind him that this was only supposed to be a little ‘sample’… Deal? What deal? They hadn’t shaken on it. Fuck the beers.  
  
“Yeah, we should practice some so you got it down, huh?,” Grif agreed, lips twitching, as he tried desperately not to laugh at how _determined_ Simmons looked. This son of a bitch. He just HAD to excel at every damn thing right out the gate.  
  
And, then, Simmons was swooping in, and kissing him. Doing a pretty damn fine job of it. Lightly nipping on his bottom lip. Growling into his mouth that he tasted like chocolate...  
  
Grif felt himself sinking into it, again... cupping the back of Simmons head in his large palm... fingers deep in that shiny red hair that drove him fuckin' nuts... massaging his scalp...  
  
He might have murmured, "Simmons", and... of course, "Baby"...  
  
Ah, man... he had it bad.  
  
And, suddenly... Simmons stopped. Right in the  middle of kissing him! He did it a couple times, too.  
  
It was **so** mother fucking hard not to laugh, at that point, right into his goddamn mouth. Grif could _feel_ Simmons’ nerd brain ticking away. Was it…? This? Or… No _this_. And, Simmons would readjust his angle, his depth. But, Grif had to admit, he just got better at it.  
  
And, the way he cupped Grif’s jaw in his palm, and how his kind of amazing fingers (But, don’t tell him that. The asshole didn’t need to get TOO big an ego, dammit…) kept rolling Grif’s earring, and rubbing at his earlobe almost like he was giving him a frickin’ pseudo pressure point massage while they were makin’ out… Un-fucking-believable…  
  
Why did this pain in the ass, son of a bitch have to be so goddamn _likeable_ , sometimes? (Or… maybe more than... “likeable”. But, hell, Grif so didn’t have to admit _that_ to him, right now… Did he?)  
  
When Simmons stopped, and, _of course_ , he went longer than Grif like he was proving a fuckin’ _point_ , or some shit, he rubbed his ridiculously adorable little nose against Grif’s like he just HAD to _eskimo kiss_ him, for fuck’s sake, to seal the deal.  
  
“Uhhh…,” Grif felt a little confused. I mean, this _was_ the same guy that pretty much just laid there, earlier, and took it, while Grif basically tongue-fucked him in the mouth, right?... Right? (Well, _may-be_ it was more like he’d made love to his mouth, but leave a poor, somehow, already whipped son of a bitch some pride, huh?)  
  
The asshole smirked against his lips –Hey! That was Grif’s trick!-, and like he read his mind, or, more likely, he was being a conceited little…, Simmons said, “I’ve always been a quick study. But, then, you know that about me… Or, maybe, you do, _now_. ”  
  
The son of a bitch snickered, and chuckled to himself. Much to amused, and pleased with his own damn self.  
  
Cocky little drunk… Arrogant. Hadn’t Grif said he could be arrogant, sometimes? And, maybe arrogant little boys need to be _taught a lesson_ …  
  
“Fuck you, man. I’m still better than you at it,” Grif told the smug little shit, nipping his chin in punishment.  
  
“ _Nn nn_… Not for long,” And, Simmons wasn’t distracted for long, either (Although, for a second, when Grif’s teeth had touched his skin, his mind had completely fuzzed out…), before he was leaning back to assure him of this, the fire of competition lighting his green eyes. I mean, not _literally_. Figuratively. Geesh. It wasn’t, like, all the sudden, _Firestarter_ up in this bitch… But… if you could just _see_ this dude’s eyes… fuck, you’d get it.  
  
And, anyway, Grif did have to concede his point. I mean this was _Simmons_ , and he would just keep working at it, and working at it, until he had it down to a science.  
  
But, Grif wasn’t going to go down without a fight.  
  
Hell. No...  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was actually broken into two as it got too long, so I will post next Chapter within the next couple days. Next Chapter has some angst, but things, also, heat up some more…  
>   
> Oh, poor Simmons! With the whole “Get me another beer, maybe I’ll be drunk enough to kiss you” thing. And, his still buzzed ass thinking he’s _sooo_ smooth cause he “didn’t even stutter”. You guys gotta **know** how much I love the kissass, but holy crap, I couldn’t even type that without just snickering and mumbling, “Such a nerd…” And, poor Grif’s like, “What the fuck?” Simmons… oh boy…That dude just is not smooth with the words. AT ALL… Better with the tongue. LOL! (Well, with some _practice_ , of course.) Oh yeah, and I realized that Grif in this AU always thinks of Simmons as “little”, even, though Simmons is taller than him. But, seriously, Grif could probably bench-press that slender, tall-ass kissass with one arm so… I guess, it’s warranted (Now, I'm, _literally_ , picturing Simmons yelping, " **GRIF**! _Stop it_ ! Put me down, you asshole! ☺)? 
> 
> Just a little insight- A good way to look at it how Grif currently views the situation between Simmons, and “AssholeSimmons/OtherSimmons”: Grif definitely recognizes the duality, but not the separation, or the individuality. Or… does he? Maybe, I should say “accepts” or “believes in”, rather than “recognizes”. He’s in Denial-land.
> 
> ❦ Also, any mentions of Grif and Simmons time together in Basic are purely AU. Themes from S14 are not, as of now, included. ❦  
>   
> Thank you to those of you that are reading this story! I appreciate it! Much Love- ♡–MissyAnn❀


	9. Once More, With Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Tunnel of Love: Emotional Rollercoaster Edition❣
> 
> Grif lost his train of thought. Fuck. The way he looked. Just _barely_ smiling up at him… with that creamy skin all flushed… those bright green eyes never leaving his… his shiny hair spread across the pillow…
> 
> So hard not to slip his hands underneath that “You’re My Royal Bitch, Baby” t-shirt, (Or, oops, he meant “I’m the King, Baby” t-shirt… ya, that’s, uh, _totally_ what it said…), and explore every single inch of his warm flesh with his fingers, and tong-…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Personal Homophobia, Abandonment Issues flare-up with a fury, Alter/Host Switching without Companion Knowledge Aftermath, Underage Relationship, Blocked/Repressed Memories, Insensitivity Toward Mental Issues Due more to Ignorance than Cruelty (Yep, that tag is still here.), Brief foreshadowing (backshadowing? How do you say that?) of memory of gore/Grif’s Training Base Massacre
> 
> Reminder: Richard’s and Simmons internal dialogue enclosed within [brackets].
> 
> As Doc will, eventually, come to say in this fic, “Honesty is the best policy!”
> 
> BTW, I probably don’t need to bother to say this, as it may be a given, but, in case not: Jimmy’s last name is not “Bean”. Jimmy Bean is a nickname based off Jelly Bean, because Richard saw Jimmy as little (Cause of being a little shorty.), and sweet. Yes, Richard is _actually_ deep, deeeeep down a secret softy, cheeseball when he cares about somebody. :p
> 
> Definition of the Old Saying Simmons Remembers: “Still Waters Run Deep” can be taken to mean: _A quiet or placid manner may conceal a more passionate nature._ Not that Grif is all that “quiet”, but another word for “placid” is easy-going, and Grif does pride himself in being “chill”...  
>   
> 

_…“Fuck you, man. I’m still better than you at it,” Grif told the smug little shit, nipping his chin in punishment…_  
  
_…“ **Nn nn**… Not for long,” And, Simmons wasn’t distracted for long, either (Although, for a second, when Grif’s teeth had touched his skin, his mind had completely fuzzed out…),… before he was leaning back to assure him of this, the fire of competition lighting his green eyes… _  
  
_…And, anyway, Grif did have to concede his point. I mean this was Simmons, and he would just keep working at it, and working at it until he had it down to a science. _  
  
_But, Grif wasn’t going to go down without a fight._  
  
_Hell. No…_  


“Hey, I know some stuff I’m _sure_ I’m still better at than you, _Simmons_ ,” the Hawaiian snickered, as he lightly tugged on the handful of red hair that he still held.  
  
Simmons smiled, narrow-eyed, at him, “Oh, yeah? And, what else could you _possibly_ still be better at… oh…”  
  
And, the smile disappeared off the redhead’s face.  
  
He looked at Grif. Like, _really_ seemed to **look** at him.  
  
Ah, shit. Here we go.  
  
Come on! Now? _Now_? Why, now? Why at fuck-ing ALL.  
  
Grif was waiting for it. For it all to go to hell. Up in fucking flames. For Simmons to inform him that, _Oh, yeah, wait a minute here! Grif, you’re a **GUY**_ -as if Grif really hadn’t already known that-, _and therefore, this is capital letters WRONG_.  
  
Grif _knew_ he was going to say it. It had just been a matter of when. He’d been expecting (and dreading) it all night. Since that first moment, when he’d pulled Simmons to him and down beside him to ask him what was wrong, and wrapped his arm around his waist… And, then, sunk his fingers into that bright red hair… That wasn’t something just a “friend” would do…  
  
It was the _real_ reason he had waited so long to do any of this, at all. To make any _real_ move after they’d been brought back together after Basic.  
  
It wasn’t just him being lazy. Or, not interested enough. Or, even, him being too traumatized from… his last Base… Although… yeah… that… that hadn’t helped… It was just… The deal with Kira had been bad enough… and… He couldn’t go through that shit, again. Not with Simmons.  
  
Not  him. Somehow, whatever the fuck the deal was with Simmons, with _them_ … it had surpassed- fuck he didn’t even know.  
  
The fucking nerd could drive him goddamn crazy. Could annoy the hell out of him. The kissass bullshit he pulled sometimes… if Grif wasn’t such a laid-back slacker, he probably would’ve strangled the son of a bitch… but, still, Grif couldn’t imagine a day without... Goddammit.  
  
It had been easier (safer) to maintain the status quo. He hadn’t wanted to take a chance… He couldn’t lose… Oh shit. If there was one thing he knew, it was that everybody fucking left…  
  
But, at least, at that moment, despite Grif knowing it was all over, before really even having a chance to begin… Simmons… _His_ Simmons, still had his hands on him, and he wasn’t telling Grif not to touch him… Not, yet, anyway…  
  
He wished he’d kissed him one more time.  
  
Instead of the expected, Simmons suddenly blurted out, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and like it was the _last_ thing he wanted to say, but it HAD to be said before anything else…, “I’m… I’m sorry. About this morning. About today. It, uh… Was I… was it… real bad?”  
  
…S-Sorry? About… Wait… He wasn’t- This wasn’t-  
  
It washed over him. Relief so intense it was nearly orgasmic in its nature. Grif was truly so relieved, so fucking _relieved_ that this wasn’t what he’d expected (what he’d feared)… he couldn’t speak. He could hardly **think**.  
  
He’d been _so sure_ , so, so goddamn agonizingly **sure** … his chest so tight… because everybody left… everybody fucking left…  
  
He found himself yanking Simmons back against him. His fingers tightened into a fist in that shiny hair that he’d been absently playing with, and running his fingers through, before his hand had frozen in dreadful anticipation.  
  
But, now, he was using that handful of silky red hair to turn Simmons’ head, and bring his mouth back to his. And, then, kissing him _hard_. Crashing their lips together. Nibbling over to his cheek, then, by no means gently, nipping along his jaw, back over to his lips in a demand for entrance. Roughly licking into his mouth. Like he was trying to **devour** him. None of the slow, careful finesse he’d shown earlier in sight.  
  
But, there was a desperation in all of the unsaid words that were poured into these kisses that left them unmatched.  
  
The redhead, although, understandably caught off guard, kissed him back, -trembling slender fingers delving into dark, thick hair-, trying to match Grif’s stunning intensity. His seemingly unappeasable appetite. Attempting to keep up with something wild, and raw that had been unleashed, it seemed, out of completely nowhere.  
  
Any competitive thoughts had been completely swept out of Simmons’ mind. Which, perhaps, meant Grif would’ve “won” by default… but honestly? All that seemed silly, and meant less than nothing to either of them at the moment. What was happening between them in that particular moment was much bigger than the bantering, the bickering, the bitching. It was hunger, and desperation in its rawest, purest form. Its  best form. Its _shared_ form.  
  
It really did seem so sudden, and out of the ~~blue~~ red (Sorry. Never knew when Sarge was lurking.). And, although Grif knew, the redhead _didn’t_ know, what had preempted it. Although, he did know that it was not at all unwelcome…  
  
And, Holy. Shit. Simmons had heard that old adage about people, ‘Still waters run deep’, but… to see it… to _feel_ it in action, and… directed toward, toward _HIM_. Well, ahh, let’s just say it was a memorable experience…  
  
When they, finally, pulled back from each other, panting, Grif realized Simmons’ _chin_ was wet from his assault- er, overzealous kisses. Yeah, let’s, let’s call it that… Simmons didn’t seem to have it together enough, yet, to even notice, though. He looked a bit dazzled.  
  
Their kisses before had been hungry, and exploratory, sweetly passionate. While, these had been starving, and desperate, beyond possessive. If it had seemed Grif was laying some kind of archaic “claim” on Simmons before…  
  
Grif gently wiped Simmons’ chin with his thumb, wiped his own face… and dried his hand on what was now Simmons’ shirt (God, to see the Kissass in his clothes… even if Grif himself had never actually worn it, and it had been supposedly meant for Simmons, anyway…). Simmons _almost_ glared at him. He started to…  
  
…But Grif couldn’t resist kissing him, again. (Kiss that patented Simmons scowl right off his face.) Gently this time. Soft, close-mouthed kisses. _Everything’s, alright_ kisses, _We’re together, screw the rest of it_ kisses, _As long as we’re together, it’ll all be okay_ kisses…  
  
_I love you… I love you_ kisses…  
  
Why was it so much easier to say the sappy important shit in your head rather than out loud? Where it really mattered?...  
  
As Grif mused on these things, he remembered what Simmons had said to him… what he had said that had caused Grif to be so overwhelmed with relief that he’d practically _mauled_ him…  
  
… _Instead of the expected, Simmons suddenly blurted out, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and like it was the _last_ thing he wanted to say, but it HAD to be said before anything else…, “I’m… I’m sorry. About this morning. About today. It, uh… Was I… was it… real bad?”_ …  
  
Grif couldn’t help but realize that his, um, “response” had probably been a _very_ fuckin’ odd way to answer that question. Simmons had basically straight-out **apologized** for his nutty ass behavior that day. (Which, wow, he must’ve really still been a little drunk. He _hated_ saying sorry, as it was like admitting he’d done something _wrong_.)  
  
Grif didn’t care about any of it like that, in that kinda way. He didn’t feel like he was owed a fuckin’ _apology_ , for Christ’s sake… **except** … Yeah, that shit that morning… with Simmons, and his gun… and Grif hadn’t had on his armor… Yeah, he could say sorry for _that_ shit… But, hadn’t he already, though?... Before their little nap? He’d been in AssholeSim-, shit… _OtherSimmons_ mode, but...  
  
Whatever the case, Grif’s response had apparently been to try to suck Simmons’ tongue down his throat. Like, hey, Baby, don’t worry. I still love… (Oh, Shit. This was really becoming a thing, wasn’t it?)  
  
* _Siiiggghhh_ * Anyway, he really oughta try to do a little better than that.  
  
_Mother fuck._ The goddamn _effort_ he put in for this son of a bitch. _Exhausting_ …  
  
But, Grif tried. When he could catch his breath, he tried. Although, he still didn’t exactly know how to answer him, Grif acted, or _attempted_ to act, chill about it, and kinda answered around the question, “Don’t worry about it, dude. It’s, uh, no big deal. Anyway, you already said you were ‘sorry for earlier’ before we decided to take a nap. Remember?”  
  
Simmons went very, very still. His expression went frighteningly blank.  
  
Oh. Fuck.  
  
“…Simmons?,” Grif asked, the ‘What the hell?’ very clear in his tone.  
  
The redhead looked at him. And, asked, very slowly, “What did…” Holy fuck. He had _almost_ said, “he”… He had almost accidently asked, What did _he_ say…  
  
Oh, Frickin’ Christ. He was feeling too comfortable with Grif. He was fucking up!  
  
And, it seemed like… so was Richard… fucking up, that is. Because, because he was pretty damn sure he, himself, hadn’t already said… and the blank spot, and the assumed “passing out” that Grif remembered completely differently… remembered, _at all_ …  
  
Simmons tried again, his arms wrapping possessively around Grif’s neck, his body so tense that slight, hardly noticeable tremors just barely shook him, “What did… what did I say?”  
  
Grif swallowed. Oh, shit. Not full-blown AmnesiacSimmons. “You… don’t remember?”  
  
Simmons, for maybe the first time since he’d told his childhood best friend, Jimmy, the truth about him, and Richard… felt _desperate_ to tell the **truth** , again. He didn’t want lies between him, and Grif. Not them. Not anymore. He wanted to blurt it out. To cry. To rage. To plead.  
  
The thoughts whispered, and screamed, in his head, but refused to come out of his mouth…  
  
No Grif. No. _Listen to me_. I don’t remember! And, now, I’m SCARED. Tell me. Tell me, **everything**. I thought something was happening between us, earlier, but, but then I woke up to blankness, and a missing, a missing… something… That-that feeling- THAT FUCKING FEELING… that how-how much time? _How much time has gone by_ feeling… I thought, I TOLD myself, that I just passed out, but, you know what? You know fucking what? I **thought** it was him. That he did something…  
  
“Simmons? I can’t hear you. You’re not talking out loud, man…,” Grif held him close, pressed his lips to his forehead, “You look like you’re thinking a million fucking things…”  
  
The thoughts went on, as if Simmons had forgotten that Grif, unlike Richard, didn’t have a window into them, didn’t _live_ amongst them…  
  
…It’s NOT the first time, Grif! _At all._ One time… one time I woke up, and he had fucking ENLISTED us, and he said he didn’t want to tell me, but I _had_ to know that, that we could never go back home… not that we’d WANT to… it didn’t matter how far we ran, they kept finding us… but-but we **couldn’t ever** , now, because he’d done something, and those bastards had _deserved_ to be- to be s-smashed, _smashed_ \- and- and he **laughed** like a cr-crazy person and said, _Salut, Cockbites! There’s a bottle those fuckers won’t be drinking_ … and, **_no_** , he hadn’t _actually **killed** either of those old cocksuckers, even after what they did to him, what they did to the two of us_ , because he’d _promised him I wouldn’t_ , hadn’t he?... I-I don’t even know what he was talking about! Or, what happened, or WHO all he was talking about- Fuck-fuck-fuck!, … Do you KNOW, can you even **imagine** , how fucking terrifying that is?...  
  
“Baby, I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what the hell’s going on… Come on, talk to me…”  
  
Simmons just held him tighter. Wishing for once that Grif could hear his thoughts so he would never have to voice, to give life to, these fears.  
  
But, I thought- I thought that _this_ _time_ he just got me to go -elsewhere- to sleep, or something. I didn’t- I didn’t think that he TOOK something from me. From us. Grif, Grif, I’m so fucking scared! I don’t want to lose him, but, sometimes, he scares me! He can get so- He can get… Please, don’t hate me, oh fuck, please don’t! I can’t help it. It’s just who I am- Who WE are. I’m so scared… I can’t remember… I can’t remember so many things… I can’t-I can’t...  
  
He was breathing a little too quick, a little too shallow. All those thoughts. Those frantic, pleading thoughts he was so goddamn _desperate_ to unburden. To share. So, so overwhelming.  
  
But, he couldn’t. He couldn’t say a single goddamn word.  
  
And, Richard, so far gone, so exhausted, yet, seeming strangely peaceful, unable to help. Completely unaware…  
  
“Simmons, hey,” The redhead had been silent for so long, his breathing gradually getting more erratic.  
  
As Grif pulled back to look at him, he shook him slightly, and commanded, “If you don’t wanna talk, fine. But, don’t start that shit. Fuckin’ breathe normal, or you’re gonna pass out.”  
  
Yes. Yes. A task. An order. He could- he could do that…  
  
Simmons tried to focus on calming his breathing. Matching Grif’s breaths… Grif’s hand was on his chest, rubbing gently, but firmly. Calming little circles. It was reminiscent of what they never really spoke _directly_ about…  
  
When something reminded Grif of… _all the blood_ … the _empty eye sockets_ , the _brains_ , _Simmons_ , _the fucking_ _**brains**_ … and they had to hide away as the Hawaiian man gagged and shook… Simmons’ hand on his chest, those tight little circles, a focal point… much as Grif now did for him… until, the “as needed” UNSC Doc’s prescribed pill worked its magic, and the Hawaiian drifted off burrowed against the redhead… the only real time Simmons would fight Sarge, fight _anyone_ , to “Let him sleep, dammit!”… the only real time he never even had to…  
  
But, Simmons, he had no strong ‘take, as needed’ when you flip your shit, anti-anxiety mediations (Although, he probably could’ve used them. Richard certainly could’ve.), and, so, despite Simmons’ distraction, still he repeated his earlier question, finally, speaking aloud again, -his voice kinda trembled, but he _had_ to know-, “What d-did I say?”  
  
Grif demanded, he didn’t mean to, but it just came out that way, “You… don’t remember? At all.”  
  
And, although, it made Simmons so very nauseas… he… he lied, “A little… but it’s… fuzzy. And, then, I guess… we fell asleep…Took a- a nap?”  
  
He added in the ‘nap’ part that Grif had mentioned to make it more believable, feeling depressed about how easily he fell back into the lies.  
  
Grif was, once again, relieved. He **made** himself be relieved. Because… this had to be something he could fix, right? To help with? He didn’t know when Simmons had become the only other person at that point, other than Kai, that he genuinely felt like that about. Like he had to watch out for him. Like he was ‘one of his’ (The truth was, he almost thought, with all that had went down, it really had happened back in _Basic_.).  
  
So, with all that figured out, he told himself that with how uptight Simmons was so much of the time, he was probably just tripping out about some kind of loss of control bullshit. He snickered jokingly, “What, you think you were dreaming? Like talking in your sleep, or something? Come on, that’s not _that_ bad.”  
  
Simmons hoped his smile didn’t look as sick as it felt, “Yeah, I guess, something like that… So, what, er… embarrassing ass stuff did I say?”  
  
Grif looked a little embarrassed himself, and he mumbled, “Ah, not much…”  
  
“Grif…”  
  
Simmons, literally, only said his name, and the other man gave in. But, he pulled Simmons back against him, and pressed his head to his chest, like he didn’t want the redhead looking at him while he repeated back some of what he believed he had said to him.  
  
“…Yeeaah, so… uh, you already said you were sorry about earlier, right?”  
  
“Earl’er?,” Simmons was pressed so tightly against Grif that his voice sounded a bit muffled.  
  
“This morning? I guess? When you were, uh, pretty on edge. Almost got your gun to shoot me outta armor… Good thing you listen to me, sometimes.” Grif sounded nonchalant, as if that couldn’t have killed him.  
  
Simmons clutched him more tightly. Fuck. Sometimes… he really was insane… Without the armor… He stuttered out, “I _am_ s-sorry… That was so fucked…I w-wouldn’t have really- Fuck…”  
  
Grif was silent, and, then, -screw it-, to lighten the mood, he was always one to do that, after all (Even when it, sometimes, backfired, and pissed people off.), he laughed, and teased, “I guess, you kinda did say some stuff that was, ya know…”  
  
Simmons tried to sound calm. He tried to BE calm. (Sleep Richard, sleep.) Not desperate. Not terrified. He wasn’t sure how well he did, but it must have been good enough. “Oh, yeah? Heh. Like what?”  
  
Grif paused, and, then, muttered, “Uh, nothing bad, or too weird, or anything, just…”  
  
Oh, thank fucking God… but, then, Grif’s versions of "bad” or “weird”, and his, might not be the same…  
  
Grif chuckled, kinda uncomfortably (Why in the fuck was he even repeating this shit?), “Er… I think, you called me a ‘lazy bean’, or some… something? Maybe, it was _being_ , like, lazy human being? And, I misheard? I don’t fuckin’ know… And, you said… uh…” Oh, shit. _This_ one. Maybe he didn’t have to say… I mean, come on, this one was straight out a cheesy-ass, affectionate _nickname_ , for Christ’s sake! No, mishearing, or mistaking _this_ one. Yeah, fuck that. He wasn’t gonna say it. Hell, no.  
  
So, of course, what did his bitch of a mouth do? _Yep_. Mother fuckin’ said it. Goddammit…  
  
“And,” Grif continued, because motor-mouth activate, apparently. How did Simmons **do this** to him?, “… You, uh… touched my hair,… and you all said… ‘Raven’. * _Snort_ * Dude, I dunno, maybe I’m gonna have to come up with something **embarrassing** for _you_ … ”  
  
No.  
  
Fuck, no.  
  
Simmons felt like his heart had actually skipped a beat. Like his breath had caught in his lungs. Like everything, _like everything_ in him had gone cold. He couldn’t even hear Grif anymore.  
  
How exhausted Richard must’ve been to not even notice…  
  
_Lazy Bean_? _Raven_? Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Richard… Oh, Shit…  


  
☼ ** _Jimmy’s Residence: Boys Aged Respectively: Simmons: 13, Jimmy:14, Richard: ?_** ☼  


”Come on, you Lazy Bean, get up!,” Richard commanded, poking the smaller boy in the belly, “Let’s go swimming before your parents get home. It’s frickin’ hot.”

Jimmy stretched, and watched as the redhead paced across his room. The dark-haired boy mumbled, “ _Nooo_ … Still sleepy. Why are you even up?”

“Because, it’s too hot, dammit!,” Richard turned back around, and advanced on him, yanking on the other boy’s long black hair, “What’s your deal, Raven? Am I _actually_ gonna have ta’ carry your lazy ass outta here?”

Jimmy grinned mischievously, and reaching up to him, batted his thick black lashes like a total flirt, “Yes! Piggy-back ride! I **demand** -“

Richard started to lean down to him, smiling a bit sardonically, “Since when do _you_ getta tell **me** what ta' do, huh? Bossy little-”

[“Uhhh, Richard?,” Simmons spoke up internally, sounding more than a little awkward.]

Startled, Richard straightened up immediately.

[“I mean, it’s-it’s cool, and all,” Simmons continued, “but… could you guys, ya know, not… not do this stuff when I’m around?... It’s super weird…”

“ **Simmons**? Holy crap. I thought you were still… Oh shit… Why didn’t I notice?… Why didn’t you tell me you woke up when I did?…”

“I dunno. I was still sleepy…but, then, all the sudden you guys, and your, you know, flirty stuff or whatever… I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t trying to peep or something…,” Simmons sounded a little flustered, “so embarrassing…”

“…uh, yeeeaah… sorry… I’ll, uh… pay closer attention, alright?”

“…Okay… Sorry…”

“Simmons, don’t do that. Chill out. You didn’t do anything wr-”]

Jimmy cocked his head, questioningly up at Richard, and dropped his arms, ”Richard, you zoned out… and are you… _blushing_?... You don’t do tha- Wait… SIMMONS! _Ahh, super weird_!!!”

[“Ah man! Simmons! You, and that damn blush…,” Richard grumbled before focusing back on Jimmy.]

“I didn’t know!,” Richard insisted, aloud to Jimmy, “You know him, he’s tricky…”

Jimmy’s mouth dropped open in absolute humiliated **horror** , and he scrambled to sit up. I, mean, it might be his best friend’s body, which, yes, _duuuh_ , he knew was, um, strange, but Richard wasn’t **Simmons**. And, the idea of Simmons being around when he was being all…  flirty… n’ stuff… uuuhhh, sooo embarrassing!

“Come on, Jimmy Bean, not like THAT! You know him better than that. Quit looking so damn **scandalized**. So, frickin’ overdramatic… He doesn’t… He’s just a kid…”

“Hey! _**Ruuude**_! You suck!,” Simmons piped out loud, obviously offended at the idea that he didn’t know stuff about… stuff… or whatever. He knew lots of stuff!... What were they talking about?

“Ew, watch out, Simmons. That coulda almost been a **’swear’** ,” Richard snickered, and, then rolled their eyes at the still blushing in embarrassment, Jimmy, “Oh, quit it, already. And, for real, Get. Up. Now. We’ll just _all_ go swimming, you insufferable pains in my ass.”

“Well… I-I still wanna piggy-back ride!,” Jimmy, always the princess of the whiners, pouted, “Simmons always gave me one when we were kids cause I’m smaller. Tell him, Simmons…”

“And, so, so LAZY,” Simmons complained in reply, and Jimmy stuck his tongue out at him.

“Pshht… I’m surrounded by _children_. Simmons! You hush. We don’t need to keep re-stating the obvious. Jimmy’s a lazy-ass. Everybody knows that… And, Jimmy, don’t be sticking your tongue at people at your age, unless…”

“Unless what?,” Simmons asked, innocently.

“Rich-ARD, Not in front of- Don’t. You. Dare. Embarrass. Me!,” Jimmy demanded, getting flustered, again.

Richard sighed, long-sufferingly, “Alright, alright… just.. let’s just go already, you buncha babies,” He sat on the bed, and let the smaller boy climb onto their back like a little spider monkey, “But, don’t go forgetting who’s here with us, and get all… ya know… kissy n’ shit.”

“ **Richard! That’s so _weird_**!,” both Simmons and Jimmy cried out in unison, in matching tones of mortification.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  
Simmons, had pulled back a bit in his shock, although Grif kept his arms around him, and didn’t let him get far.  
  
The redhead was struck completely speechless once, again. This time by the realization that Richard had somehow been so out of it that he had _mistaken Grif for Jimmy_, for fuck’s sake, and he had said some… some strange things to him… and Grif had thought Simmons was saying them to _him_ … Fucking hell… Don’t get him wrong! He was _grateful_ Grif hadn’t realized it wasn’t him. That he still seemed to think Simmons was more of a… a… _normal_ , oddball person. That he didn’t realize that it went much, much beyond that. But, still.  
  
And, what was with the “sorry for earlier” shit Richard said? Grif thought _he_ had been talking about that morning. But, if Richard had thought he was talking to Jimmy… Simmons couldn’t remember them ever really fighting, or even breaking up… Hadn’t Jimmy just… m-… moved?... uh, moved away awhile after being taken out of the school?... Was that a year later? A couple years…? Somehow, he could never remember…  
  
Dammit. He couldn’t think about that, now. Richard always flipped out… He’d almost been _hysterical_ when Simmons had tried to talk about, or think about Jimmy, the other day. Just, idly wondering what he was up to. He’d grown up with him, after all, and he had been _his_ best friend way before he was Richard’s “boyfriend”, or whatever. Richard hadn’t taken Simmons mentioning him well.  
  
When Simmons had told him he was surprised he felt that way, I mean, hadn’t Jimmy just, um, moved? Right?... The sound Richard made… Had he been crying? Laughing? “He ‘moved’! Yes, he fucking _moved_ far, far away, Simmons! Now, shut up! I don’t want to rememb- to talk about it…”  
  
It was all so confusing, and it didn’t seem fair…  
  
Simmons had been silent too long. Staring sightlessly down at the red panda on Grif’s shirt. Grif’s lips turned down. Simmons hadn’t meant any of it. Not even the… the things that had meant something to Grif… Just drunk babblings…  
  
“You don’t remember any of this… do you? O-okay… You said you… ah, fuck… ‘missed me’…,” Grif said haltingly, not knowing why he even fucking _bothered_ … But… that one thing… that after Basic… surviving that fucking hell… that, at least… Simmons had… missed him, too…, “Thought you meant… after Basic… but, I guess… who knows…”  
  
Grif fucking hated himself for being such a big-mouth sappy piece of sh-  
  
Simmons was drawn out of his reverie in an instant.  
  
“ **I did** ,” he whispered, fervently, “I d-did miss you… and I thought you… w-when that happened at your training base, …it was so bad… we all heard about it… At first, I-I thought you were … _Grif, I really thought-_ ”  
  
He buried his face back into Grif’s chest. He was _shaking_. Grif’s arms wrapped tight around him. Alright. Alright. Well, at least, there was that… He had given a shit. Even, back then. Grif’d _thought_ he had, but hearing it… some, some shit you just needed to hear.  
  
Fuck. But, now, Simmons was… He knew Simmons well enough to know he was going to start to  really cry, probably sob, any minute. Hell, any _second_. And, once Simmons got past a certain point, and whatever it was that kept him from losing it completely was out to lunch, shit, it was so damn _hard_ to get him back to steady ground again. If they were home… (If Grif had him back home with him…) Simmons, hell, they _both_ could afford to have some mental breakdown time. But, for now, in a war, whether a fucking joke of one or not, it wasn’t the time.  
  
So, Grif did what he knew would work. To pull Simmons out of it. Ultimately, make him feel “better”, in a way. Maybe, it was a little fucked! But, this was part of why he, and Simmons, secretly got along. In some ways, they just really understood each other.  
  
“Dude, don’t do that,” Grif censured, although he couldn’t help but squeeze him tighter, “That isn’t fair to me, man. I went to ALL this trouble to chill your ass out, and this is what I get back? I mean, _come on_ , Simmons, you and I both know that if you get all weepy, your sinuses are gonna act up, and then there’s gonna be snot _everywhere_ … Fuckin’ **gross**. Not a cool scene, man. Seriously. Seriously, not cool…”  
  
Simmons cocked his head up at him, eyes damp, and furious, ready to spit fire… and then, he saw the knowing crooked smile the asshole was giving him… and he started sputtering and laughing.  
  
“You-You piece of shit!... Get me a freaking tissue… Th-Thanks. Dumbass.” Simmons shoved at Grif until he let him sit up, and the redhead wiped, and blew his nose.  
  
And, Grif, like the sensitive guy he _totally_ was, _cackled_ at the honk noise Simmons made while blowing his nose, and asked, “When’d we get a goose, dude?”  
  
So ridiculous. All the drama. The stress. The worry. And, suddenly, they were bullshitting, again.  
  
But, that was them. They had never _really_ had that with anyone else. They could go through hell, and somehow, with each other, find steady ground, again.  
  
Simmons chuckled in complete exasperation, “You fucking suck so goddamn much, Grif. ‘Goose’. You’re probably the worse person on the planet.”  
  
“What? This planet?,” the Hawaiian asked.  
  
“ _Allll planets_ , dumbass,” Simmons assured him, “Now, now, didn’t we have a deal? Not that I really remember what it was, but… Go. Go, get me my shit!”  
  
Grif thought, The new deal is we barricade ourselves in here, and I never let you leave my bed. Well, except for food, and bathroom breaks. We’re only human, after all.  
  
But, instead of voicing his _completely_ normal, not, at all, over-possessive thoughts, Grif complained, “Ah, but Siiimmooons, you’re seeming more sober…”  
  
“Yeah, no shit! Quit being such a party pooper!”  
  
“ _Mmmm_ … How about one more sample? I’m not sure I’m convinced. And, I mean, I know I, literally, _just_ said you’re seeming more sober, but “party pooper”? Dude, who says that crap, anymore? Now, you just got me worried. I mean, shit! What if you pass out like some fucking asshole while I’m gone?,” Grif whined. Hey, whatever worked, “How’s about payment upfront?”  
  
Simmons' eyes narrowed, and he tossed his head, haughtily, “I think that was a little more than a “sample”, Grif. You’re just greedy… And, **yes**. _I already knew that about you_.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, if you _know_ it, then don’t act so goddamn surprised. _Comere_ ,” Grif growled, as he yanked him down, roughly, and rolled him underneath him, making the redhead yelp. He didn’t put much weight onto him. Didn’t press him down into the bed. Although, fuck…. He wanted to...  
  
And, he gave Simmons a very chaste little peck, before pulling up, an arm on either side of his head, to smirk at his reddened face, “Now, _that’s_ probably more of a “little sample”… Are you even listening, Simmons? I’m trying to _teach_ you something here… What you were doing before… I dunno, man…”  
  
Grif lost his train of thought. Fuck. The way he looked. Just _barely_ smiling up at him… with that creamy skin all flushed… those bright green eyes never leaving his… his shiny hair spread across the pillow…  
  
So hard not to slip his hands underneath that “You’re My Royal Bitch, Baby” t-shirt, (Or, oops, he meant “I’m the King, Baby” t-shirt… ya, that’s, uh, _totally_ what it said…), and explore every single inch of his warm flesh with his fingers, and tong-  
  
And, then, Simmons’ hips arched up against him, the breath catching in the redhead’s throat, his hands grasping onto Grif’s hips… obviously feeling the other man hardening, again (Again, because… really? Did he _really_ not realize,  at all, any of the over times?), only _against_ him this time, which was making Simmons… despite the alcohol, from earlier, that had hit him a little too hard… Oh, oh fuck…  
  
But, still, he was _Simmons_. Simply Simmons, or Simply Sims, as Donut would eventually come to, at times, call him. In other words, currently, singularly, only him. And, he just had to do it. He  always wanted the last word…  
  
“ _M-Me_?!,” the redhead, seriously _more_ than a bit breathless at the moment, squeaked out, but the small smile that didn’t leave his face took any possible bite out of his tone, “You, you, kissed **me** first! And… and… you know… not obeying the one per customer rule regarding ‘samples’ would definitely be against p-protocol…”  
  
THAT (Ah, Simmons, you idiot…) caused Grif’s arousal to stutter to a stop (This fucker _was_ gonna give him a, a… dick attack, or whatever the fuck! Grif was both too old, _and_ too young for this shit.), and although it wouldn’t take much, _at all_ , to get him back on track, especially with Simmons hardening beneath him… well, son of bitch! Now, he was a little pissed!  
  
Fuck. He _really_ did have a problem.  
  
Grif grimaced, (You’d think Simmons had elbowed him in the gut, or something.), and his brows started to furrow, “Fuck THAT shit. What ‘customers’?” (Had Simmons even said that?) “ _I’m_ your only ‘customer’, bitch! Pfft… And, you wonder why I want all my samples, now. You don’t give away _any_ freebies to people that aren’t ME, dumbass. Those’re the rules, Simmons. _Get it straight,_ goddammit!”  
  
Simmons cocked his head, looking up at the actually truly annoyed-looking Grif thoughtfully… lowering his hips… and, then, he snickered, “You’re actually jealous. Of people that… don’t exist.”  
  
Grif couldn’t… what the fuck, now? So, he asked, “… What?”  
  
“You heard me, you idiot! Who’re these mystery people I’m sneaking around with, huh? Giving all ‘Grif’s designated _freebies_ ’ away to?,” Simmons smirked, “Seriously, I never would’ve thought you’d be so _jealous_ …”  
  
“I’m NOT!” He so was. He scowled, “You’re getting too sober. Now, you’re just pissing me off.”  
  
**And** , making me lose my hard-on due to pointless paranoia, and jacked-up jealously.  
  
Thanks a lot!  
  
Goddammit.  
  
Hey, don’t ever let it be said that Grif didn’t get how fucked in the head he was about this shit. He GOT it, man. He just couldn’t HELP it.  
  
“Then, Go. Get. The. Beers. You. Promised. Me.,” Simmons demanded, poking Grif’s chest with a long, slender finger to emphasize each word.  
  
“Oh… fuck… alright, _fine_ … But… But, what if you really DO pass the fuck out like a complete prick while I’m gone? I got a bad feeling…,” Grif asked, as he got up off him, and sat back to eye him suspiciously.  
  
It would, _literally_ , be just his luck. The story of his freaking life.  
  
“How long are you gonna be- Where the hell _are_ they?,” Simmons asked, incredulously, as he settled into Grif’s spot on the bed (Whoa. Did it seem like they had their own _spots_ all the sudden?).  
  
_Mmmm_ … so warm.  
  
“Donut’s room… Hey, Man, don’t give me that ‘What the fuck?’ look! It’s a fucking **great** hiding spot for shit! I knew Sarge wouldn’t go looking in _there_. But, now, well, fuck, ya know how it is… I dunno if I can get outta there without having to listen to a show tune or two… Dammit, Simmons! I don’t trust you, you Kissass! I _don’t_ wanna come back here, and find your dumb ass asleep! What am I supposed to do, then?”  
  
Simmons sat back up, unconsciously shaking his red hair back out of his face. Not knowing where he kept getting the courage, he leaned forward, and fisted his hands into Grif’s shirt.  
  
And, pulling the other man to him, he whispered against his lips, “Then… _you wake me the hell up_.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Grif has to talk to Donut, and… Lopez? What the hell are you doing back at Red Base tonight? This next Chapter is **heavy** with DoLo (That’s my ship name for them, and I’m sticking to it. ;p ) aka Donut and Lopez, and we get a little window into their secret odd, yet, adorable, relationship deal. I’m so happy to have them back in the story! I missed them! Some brief Chucker will be coming up, too. 
> 
> Also, Grif’s possessiveness which can lead into jealousy is connected to the over-protective streak he has. Once we are able to get deeper into his past, and Kai’s, as well, it may make a bit more sense. It’s not that he _wants_ to be that way, and, at least, he is self-aware in this fic of the fact that it can be an issue. But, everything in his life has molded him into this at this point. And, as we all know, much like real life, it is hard to break the mold.
> 
> I really hope the people reading understand the separation between Richard, and Simmons better than Grif does at this point. And, understand that these feelings for Jimmy were, and are, _Richard’s_ , not Simmons. I know, I know. If I beat this dead horse anymore, the sucker might come back to life!
> 
> There are just different levels of separation in a situation like this. Some people with an Alter have the even rarer circumstance where the Alter is so separate from them, so their own individual, even to the point of _knowing_ strange things that they can’t have gotten from the Host, and they almost always seem to present as mentally older than the Host, as well. You see, a bit of that in this chapter, showing that Richard is one of those rare Alters. Thinking of Simmons as “a kid” even when they were both in an adolescent body. But, with how stunningly naïve Simmons was, and still is in some ways, for his age, it’s hard to blame Richard for this. But, whatever the case, this is the body he is “trapped” in. Also, Simmons, and Richard aren’t Co-existing very well, overall, right now, or as seamlessly as they did in the past, so there is a lot of not being present with each other at the same time.


	10. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, Simmons very obviously started to get _so_ uncomfortable… Like he was just _waiting_ for Grif to fuck with him about it.
> 
> Which was understandable.
> 
> After all, it was one thing to be giggly, and growly, and playful with each other, but quite another when someone went off script, and let loose a needy, _porn-star_ moan. You’d almost think Simmons’d gotten ahold of another PB  & J sandwich, or some shit. (It was the only slightly similar sound out of Simmons Grif had to compare it to.) Not to be weird, but, uh, sounded a teensy bit similar…
> 
> Only _louder_ …  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Hawaiian to English Translation** : Ono: Delicious  
> Tags for this Chapter: Getting a bit closer to NSFW, Struggling with Living Your Truth (Forgive me. I HAD to say it.), Personal Homophobia, HomoSexist-phobia (-?- Would you call it that? When someone, oftentimes due to their upbringing, is afraid of coming across as the more supposedly ‘female’ counterpart in an M/M relationship? No, shit. There is NO name for this, and it is SO a thing for some people… Homosexophobia. There. Now, it has a name.), Time that it’s “Just Them” acknowledged for 1st time, Chucker say what?, DoLo La Pesado aka Robonuts (I hate their actual ship name sooo much.)  
>   
> I came SO close to putting up the hugest chapter _ever_ this time. I _really_ want to move forward to some big plot points, and we are sooo close. But, ultimately, I broke the chapter up. Next chapter which I’ve been calling “Donut and LoLo are Lovely” (That’s not necessarily the final name. Or… is it? ☺) should be up pretty soon.  
>   
> 

_Dammit, Simmons! I don’t trust you, you Kissass! I **don’t** wanna come back here, and find your dumb ass asleep! What am I supposed to do, then?” _  
  
_Simmons sat back up, unconsciously shaking his red hair back out of his face. Not knowing where he kept getting the courage, he leaned forward, and fisted his hands into Grif’s shirt._  
  
_And, drawing the other man to him, he whispered against his lips, “Then… **you wake me the hell up**.”… _  


 

“ _Mmhm_?!”  
  
The questioning, surprised murmur popped out of the redhead before he could even think to stop himself.  
  
But, honestly, Simmons couldn’t  help it! He just couldn’t _believe_ this son of a bitch. Here Simmons had been _really_ trying to, ya know…  be provocative or alluring or some other embarrassing as all hell girly-ass shit \- _uhhh_ , someone just kill him now… but fuck, at least, he _tried_! He didn’t know how this crap all worked! But, Grif, apparently, HAD to take every opportunity to outmatch him. And, he couldn’t even truly be pissed, because everything Grif did just… just  made Simmons want him more…, and shit!

If _this_ was what love, erm (!), uh, uh, w-whatever, was like, it seemed Cupid went around _stabbing people in the face_ with his arrows, rather than tapping them gently in the ass with them! ( _Ummm_ … He didn’t mean that… like that…) And, anyway, _that_ sounded like a good way to lose an eye.

Ah man, and it **really** seemed like Grif was gonna try to push this whole _I’m actually the super-secret boss of you, Simmons_ shit to his advantage (Had Simmons _actually_ just acknowledged that? Like, for real?). When they were alone, anyway.

Grif oughta know how cranky that was libel to make him, make _both_ of them, when they _weren’t_ entirely alone, and had to act differently.

But, the Hawaiian was nothing if not rebellious, insistent and steady-minded about something when he decided he wanted it.

Of course, up until that day, Simmons had seriously only seen that applied to food, and nap-times. He hadn’t known that determined state of mind , that _I want it, it’s mine_ attitude, could- could apply to h-him? (Did he just _squeak_ in his thoughts? Fuck! And, not even while arguing with Richard… Pathetic.)

I, mean, the words had barely left the redhead’s mouth, “Then… _you wake me the hell up_.”… when Grif’s arms had wrapped around him, and he was pressing Simmons against him.

Simmons’ arms were still up, hands still fisted in Grif’s shirt, only trapped in-between their bodies, now.

It, suddenly, almost seemed like more of a defensive posture.

Simmons’ lips barely brushing the other man’s had turned to Grif pressing their mouths more solidly together...

And, they were kissing, again.

What was _wrong_ with them? Simmons thought fleetingly. They couldn’t keep focused on any task. It was like the more they had of each other , the more they _wanted_ of each other. And, oh, he fucking _wanted_ it.

And, yes, yes, Simmons had heard all about that thing where repressed, um, -not that he was repressed, or anything!... Whatever\- people could turn into total gimme more s-sex addicts, but… (Holy crap, was that _true_?)

Well, whatever the case, it was different this time. More like a duel for supremacy.

They, literally, sat up on their knees on the bed, leaning onto one another, tongues dancing around each other like they had nothing else to do for say like freaking _ever_. It was… wow…

Whenever, the redhead seemed to get the upper hand, Grif would pull back just enough to nip at his jaw or neck in retribution, like he was _putting him back in line_ (What an asshole.), and Simmons couldn’t help himself, and shit, he **hated** to admit this, but whenever Grif did that, Simmons would _giggle_ , or squeak, or _uggghhh craaap_ , do something equally girly as shit.

Goddamn Grif bringing out that side of him that he tried so hard to hide! Although, it did seem that the embarrassing, not at all masculine, noises that Simmons’ mouth kept betraying him with _really_ got to the other man, and Grif would fucking _growl_ like ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’…

Okay, Grif so did NOT say that, but it was kinda mother fuckin’ _implied_ , and kinda had been at different points through-out the night. And…

Why wasn’t Simmons really pissed about that? He- he should be… right? If he just _had_ to be with someone who was a, a _guy_ , because, apparently, he had no- n-no goddamn self-control (And, maybe… maybe… because he WANTED TO.), then, shouldn’t he, at least, try to be the ‘guy’ of this whole thing? Even, if him being _this_ very way, very much the opposite of the ‘guy’, or the dominant one in their encounters… if in some odd way, this way that Grif brought out in him, fucking _embarrassing_ and chickish as it was… felt so inevitable, and so… _right_?

Oh, and, by the way, technically, the character of Tarzan wasn’t exactly known to ‘growl’ per say… Oh fuck, forget it. Simmons was flipping out a little bit here, getting kinda edgy, and desperate, and he wanted this so bad, but he was thinking too much (Not _over_ -thinking, because that wasn’t a fucking **thing** , goddammit!), but his thoughts were disjointed as fuck...

But, then, Grif’s tongue and teeth would touch him, again… never too hard, but just… just enough that Simmons would forget about all that paranoid bullshit that felt tattooed onto his goddamn _soul_ , and instead, he’d be focusing on how the embarrassing noises that unconsciously poured out of him caused Grif to **have** to be inside his mouth, again, and, then, he’d be kissing Simmons, and… they’d start all over again.

BUT… Wouldn’t you know it? Who would’ve guessed?... Before Simmons would’ve stopped, would’ve pulled back, Grif was sinking back onto his haunches.

The redhead was about to promptly, smirkingly, and, maybe, a bit _smugly_ declare himself the ‘winner’… Ha! He _knew_ he could outlast Grif on anything that didn’t entail sitting, or laying down!- But, even as Simmons thought this, he realized he was still wrapped in the lazy bastard’s arms, and he… - _Ohhh_. Well, _that_ was fucking cheaty! The son of a bitch apparently had lazy man seduction codes all figured out, or some bullshit-

Grif just pulled Simmons right up, and settled him down onto his lap, and as he did -it was completely automatic, more of that _it’s like we’ve done this a million times_ deal-, Simmons’ found his legs instantly wrapping around Grif’s waist.

And, they were back to playing their ‘little game’, again… kissing and competing, and nipping and dominating, and giggling and growling, and _playing_ for fuck’s sake… who would’ve thought… playing…

Only this time with Grif in a more comfortable position. And frankly, Simmons, too… Except…

Except, for something excitingly, terrifyingly, -fuck- let’s just say, uh, _not small_ , poking the redhead in the ass cheek… but… that was, probably, to be expected… Uh, uh, the poking, the poking! That’s, erm, absolutely what he meant (How was that better?)… Not the s-size!... How would Simmons know that? It wasn’t like the redhead had _ever_ gotten too curious in the showers, and, um, ya know, snuckapeek, or anything… Geez, what kind of fucking perv did you think he was?!…

…He couldn’t help it! He. Was. Nat-ur-al-y. Curious… Goddammit!

Regardless, or, perhaps, partially _because_ of Simmons, and his secret, yet to be truly unleashed, horn-dog ways, this went on for a while. Maybe, it wasn’t that long. Maybe it was. They, honestly, lost track of time.

Until…

On one of Grif’s little nippy _Just shut-up, and let me **dominate** your dumb ass, you pretty lil’ fuck_ (Oops! Not, exactly _literally_ … Fuck. Fine. **Totally** literally.) reprimands, he hit a spot -Oh, you know the one. Most people got that _spot_ somewhere on their body that drives them wild that isn’t even near any more ‘personal areas’.

Well, for Simmons it was low on the right side of his neck, a bit above where his neck met his collarbone… and, oh, the noise he made. Not a giggle, or even a squeak (Or, please God, don’t let Grif tell anyone… or not even one of the little _squeals_ that Grif was getting out of him.), not that time. But, a _moan_.

Grif grew still, lips still pressed to that spot, but unmoving.

And, Simmons very obviously started to get _so_ uncomfortable… Like he was just _waiting_ for Grif to fuck with him about it.

Which was understandable.

After all, it was one thing to be giggly, and growly, and playful with each other, but quite another when someone went off script, and let loose a needy, _porn-star_ moan. You’d almost think Simmons’d gotten ahold of another PB  & J sandwich, or some shit. (It was the only slightly similar sound out of Simmons Grif had to compare it to.) Not to be weird, but, uh, sounded a teensy bit similar…

Only _louder_ …

How was innocent little virgin Simmons to know that Grif was more than into it? And, while he _did_ intend on teasing the furiously blushing redhead for it, it _might_ not be in quite the way Simmons expected…

Simmons started getting squirmy, and seemed like he was going to try to say something…

That is until Grif murmured to him, “Right here, Baby?”, and he more nibbled, then nipped on the spot on Simmons’ neck this time, muttering something that _sounded_ like ‘oh-no’, but with the inflection, and how it was said like one word, and _in that tone_ , the redhead **knew** Grif was speaking Hawaiian to him once more, not that the Hawaiian man seemed to _realize_ he was doing it, again. And, all while really focusing on _that spot_. Pushing his damn advantage, like the cheaty fuck he was…

And Simmons, poor, poor Simmons, thought he was going to _die_. Because, he couldn’t shut his traitorous goddamn mouth, and he moaned out, “ _Griiif, Mmmfuuuccck_ …” And, he almost wondered if maybe he was making too much of a fuss out of something that shouldn’t be _that_ big a deal, but he couldn’t quite get his head clear enough to figure it out.

Hell, he didn’t have a fucking clue. Was this a thing? Was this a normal thing? Again, he didn’t know how all this worked exactly! In theory, yes, but in practice… Why did his body have to, apparently, be s-so sensitive! It was- was some bullshit! How could he be expected to maintain his self-contro-

“ _Ooohhh Goooddd_ …”

Oh Christ. His reaction, the sounds he made, how he clung to Grif, fingers digging through the other man’s t-shirt, and into his skin (How he was hardening, pressed up against Grif’s belly, although, still afraid to be doing any of this, he was trying so goddamn hard to tell himself he wasn’t.)…

He didn’t know what it was that really got to Grif, in particular, or if it was all of it, but, suddenly, he was bowing Simmons’ back. Leaning forward overtop him. And, Simmons’ hands were automatically loosening, sliding up Grif’s chest, wrapping around the back of his neck…

Oh my fuck. Simmons felt like there were tingles sparking through-out his entire body. For a second, he thought Grif was going to take him all the way back down onto the bed, and **take him** , _right then_ , and he was so excited, and so freaked the fuck out.

-He wanted to rub his body all over Grif.-

This was against _everything_ he had ever been taught.

-Like an affectionate long, lean cat (Like a… Puma?) rubbing their scent all over their beloved master.- (Where the hell was THAT shit coming from?!)

There were so many feelings, and desires, and fears…

-And, he wanted to hold him, and rock against him, and-and, fuck the trying to not be ‘girly’ bullshit, and just be his, fucking be _his_ -…

But, still, this was freaky shit. It couldn’t be denied, or ignored. But he _wanted_ it… but he was SO goddamn **afraid** of wanting it… His heart was beating so, so fast, he- he-

Simmons was so wrapped up in his head that he didn’t even realize that Grif had caught on to his eager, yet confused, aroused, yet increasingly panicked state of mind.

The Kissass was starting to freak. Fuck. They were probably moving too fast, again, -The _only_ time Dexter Grif could **ever** be relied on to move fast. When he wanted to get to the eating, or the fucking. You could always take your time to savor once you had what you wanted in your grasp, after all.- But, fuck, probably, definitely going too fast again… especially with someone in Simmons’ position.

A repressed virgin? Yeah, might not be a good idea (Fuck that! It was a GREAT idea…) to sleep with him the same night you first kissed, or really even admitted to yourself how you felt about the dude…

Nevertheless, he hadn’t been able to help but think…

Maybe… just a little bit longer? Would that be so bad?... Kiss him some more, just for a little bit? Just lay back down between his long, slender legs, and… just… just for a little bit. Peel off every piece of clothing that separated them, and feel him wrapped around him bare… just- just for…

And, _really_ tease him, and play with him, and be _inside_ him, feel him arch up, and tighten around him, and… Find that place inside him that would turn that adorable as fuck giggle into a _scream_. Cause Grif knew as sure as his heart beat that Simmons _would_ scream…

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. And, _that’s_ when Grif knew he  really should get them the hell off the bed for a second.

It was like that game the kids played ‘the floor is lava’, only, in this case, it was ‘the **bed** is lava’, and Grif had to either let it burn them alive or get to safer ground.

He knew what HE wanted. Really what they _both_ wanted. He _could_ feel Simmons’ cock pressing persistently against his belly, after all.

Maybe, later, they’d find it funny how, at that particular moment, with all this so new, they were both completely mum regarding the proverbial elephant, make that _two_ elephants, in the room. But, right then, with _Simmons_ hard against him, while Grif was just fucking _rigid_ against the redhead’s small, but nicely round, firm little ass… Mother **Fucker**. It was driving him freaking _**crazy**_ …

Goddammit, but Grif was _trying_ to keep within acceptable limits (Whatever the fuck THAT meant.) of fooling around, without _actually_ fooling around. Fuck, this shit was confusing. Was this how the teenagers did it? He didn’t know. He hadn’t got to mess around at that age with how careful he’d had to be with keeping him, and Kai’s home life under wraps.

But, he WAS trying. This Kissass seemed to be the only one who could get Grif, who really did prefer the easiest road, to bother to do that.

Despite how easy it would be, and how tempting it was, to simply slip a hand under that too big t-shirt that kept giving him tantalizing views of a creamy collarbone, or a smooth shoulder…

Despite it being tempting _as all hell_ to just pull that shirt right up and off the Kissass. Get his hands on all that creamy, delicious skin underneath…

But, somehow, he was able to hold back.

Cause… man, to explain it in Grif-speak, Grif knew once you twisted open an Oreo, you **had** to lick that cream that’d been hidden underneath… and he didn’t expect it to be any different with this enticing as all fuck little Kissass.

And, Fuck! Simmons wasn’t just _anybody_. Not some cheap hook-up at one of the underground clubs or bars back home… Goddammit… Grif shouldn’t even let himself _think_ about that out-of-character fuckery the damn shit with Kira had driven him to... That had caused him so much mother fucking trouble...

No. Simmons was fucking light years from all that meaningless crap.

And, after all the buildup, all the time together, to just rush everything when they first really dared to, sort of, _show_ each other how they really felt… just fuckin’ chick feelings _all over_ the damn place… even if they couldn’t seem to say the words…

But, part of the problem was that it _wasn’t_ just that. There was more to it than the buildup, the anticipation, or, even, the chick feelings…

It was that- that fuckin’ odd deal with them, again. Where everything felt too weirdly right, and it sounded so frickin’ **strange** , but this stuff all felt _natural_ between them. Like being together, _really_ together, like that? Well, hell, man, that would be just the thing to do. The absolutely fucking _normal_ , perfect, at that very moment, next step.

Except…

And, that’s when Grif, finally, got up off the bed, taking a wrapped around him Simmons up with him. Maybe, that wasn’t the fuckin’ smartest move for someone trying to chill their dick the hell out. -He was _way_ too goddamn attracted to this son of a bitch-… But… Simmons was wrapped pretty tightly around him, and, goddammit, Grif wasn’t quite ready to let go of him, yet.

And, typical Simmons, he got all squeaky.

“ _Wha-_! _GRIF_!,” Simmons yelped, “What- No! Put-Put me down! I…  I…”

The redhead, obviously, lost his train of thought.

Grif getting up off the bed with him still in his arms, then, just _standing there_ , breathing a little ragged, with his face buried in Simmons’ shoulder, obviously trying to regain self-control, and all while holding Simmons up in his arms like he was freaking weightless… it was, um, definitely distracting.

It made the redhead think about how Grif was much stronger than he liked to let on, or than he seemed at first glance. And, how it was something the Hawaiian man very obviously didn’t want other people to know…

But, when Simmons’ hands were on his arms, his chest, his shoulders, he could _feel_ the solid muscle (Was it genetics? T-Testosterone levels?) underneath the layer of lazy man’s pudge… _Mmmm_ … Uh, uh, anyway! Probably, he figured people knowing would just equal more _work_ for him. Pfft… Lazy ass…

(An embarrassingly dreamy, and audible * _Siiiggghhh_ * escaped one pretty little redhead.)

Strangely enough, Simmons didn’t _really_ care about that, about Grif’s lazy as fuck tendencies, at the moment. Although, he was one that could turn irate at the drop of a hat...

All he could truly think about, right then, was how there was something… _Mmmm_ … something about being with someone so much stronger than you… He knew he was slender, and it wasn’t like he weighted a ton, or anything, but still, Grif picked him up like it was _nothing_.

The arm that wasn’t under his… behind (He suddenly felt… unexplainably _shy_ to say ‘ass’ in this context… weird…), and holding him up, was wrapped around him mid-back… holding him so fucking close… Grif’s hands… alternating between slowly kneading, and palms and fingers gently brushing over his unfortunately clothed-over flesh…

It was so…

(So perfect.)

So…

(So _right_.)

So…

( _WRONG_.)

(So **DANGEROUS**.)

The invasive thoughts snapped into the redhead’s head so quickly, he wasn’t even sure which direction they had come from. Not from Richard. Who was still so quiet. So peaceful. So _out_ like a fucking light.

But, despite that, and how this moment between Simmons and Grif felt, although frickin’ scary, so goddamn good… intrusive, learned fears indoctrinated into those so very young, -Simmons and Richard, and Jimmy, as well, being amongst them-, strove to destroy it all.

Simmons thought, blurrily, confusedly, _It’s like we’re losing ourselves to each other. Maybe, maybe they were right, maybe, being together like this **is** dangerous_ …

(“ **…A Man of God does not dilute his worth, his virtue, to lie down with another man. Temptation costs your Spirit, your Soul, your _Purity of Self_. Always remember Your Duty to your Church, your God-fearing forthcoming wife, and your Eternal Soul pays the price for this _Abomination of Sin_ …** ”)

Simmons snapped back. Those words. The memory of those, in some form or fashion, oft- repeated words…

He had frozen against Grif. Just for a moment, but the Hawaiian was so in-tuned to this little Kissass that he felt every minuscule change in his posture, in his movement. But, before he could question him on it… about what the hell was going on in his head…

Simmons was nuzzling Grif’s neck. Everything in the redhead pushed, deliberately and stubbornly, pushed such thoughts away… _No! No! They’re wrong. They’re wrong!_ … And, he almost seemed to be melting into the other man rather than, as he had for that short moment, holding himself stiffly away.

Simmons nestled closer into Grif’s chest. Arms wrapped around his neck, legs still low around his waist. Not speaking. Just soaking it in. Actually, allowing himself to be mellow, and affectionate, without, for that moment, letting any of the words, those terrible, hateful words, get in the way.

Grif groaned. It seemed like it would always catch him off guard. These moments where Simmons could be so goddamn _sweet_ , and chill, and affectionate… From a dude like Simmons, that could really be a hell of a prick, sometimes (Let’s be real here. Kinda a lot of the time.), and that _wasn’t_ even including his AssholeSimmons moments… it was…

“Ah man,” Grif muttered, “if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna go at all…”

Go? Simmons had completely forgotten he was going somewhere. He pulled back to look at him, and Grif had that expression on his face. Like he wished he’d kept his mouth shut, and not reminded him.

Simmons sighed, and burrowed back into Grif’s chest. Into his warmth.

Goddammit. As Grif’s fingers tightened reflexively into the Kissass’ clothes, and skin, he wondered what the deal was. With him. And, his fucking _MOUTH_. It was like his mouth was its own person. Determined to fuck him over at every turn.

But…

The truth was that they probably should stick with the original plan. It wasn’t about the beer. Hell knows if they’d even really drink any of it. It was more about kinda untangling themselves from each other for just a little bit. Long enough to sort of pull it together some...

Because if they didn’t?

They were gonna have sex.

For sure.

_Tonight_.

It was just a given.

Maybe, cause they’d waited too long to do any of this… or maybe, when it came to all this, they were turning out to be just too damn compatible… or _may-be_ Simmons was one of those repressed virgins that was turning out to be a super, hot as hell, sex addict that was throwing irresistible pheromones all over the place, and Grif was like a fucking hound on the scent…

Who frickin’ knows. But, Grif couldn’t help but think that this dude deserved a little more than to just get rolled on his first time doing _anything_ , didn’t he? Especially, when he was obviously freaked out about every goddamn step forward they took?

Grif blew out a slow breath, and trying to distract himself from his dick, that was getting, let’s just say, very _insistent_ at this point, he mumbled something under his breath a few times in succession…

Simmons’ eyebrows raised, although, Grif couldn’t see it, as the redhead was curled so tightly against him, and he asked, tone a little confused, “Did… d-did you just repeat… ‘ _burnt brownies_ ’?”

Grif was quiet for a second, and, then, he snorted loudly, “Fuck, I said that _out loud_?... Dammit… Well… shit… we, uh… hm… We all have our little tricks to distract ourselves when we get too, ya know, ‘worked up’... Don’t worry, dude, you’ll have your own before you know it.”

“ _Hmmm_ … I don’t under-….,” Simmons sounded a bit lost… but, then, he got it. Oh, man. This _guy_. How did he _know_ all this stuff? **He** was the one, the-the ‘gimmee more s-sex addict’! It was HIM! 

And, that… didn’t make sense.

Simmons leaned back. It never occurring to him how safe and secure he felt in knowing he didn’t have to worry about Grif dropping him.

Grif being able to pick him up as easily as if he weighed less than a freaking _toddler_ was already feeling commonplace.

The redhead _tried_ to look down his nose at Grif. But, it was kind of hard to seem regal when some asshole just up, and picked you up, and you had to wrap your legs around their waist so you didn’t fall!

Although, maybe he had already been wrapped around him… but that was neither here nor there…

“I-I thought you were lazy!,” Simmons accused. He didn’t intend it to come out that way, but, well, there it was.

Grif, _instantly_ , scowled.

“Hey! Fuck you! I AM lazy,” Grif replied in a tone of deep offense. Like Simmons had offended his _honor_ for Christ’s sake.

Simmons was about to roll his eyes at him, but, then, Grif’s evil little grin made an appearance, and he was continuing, “… But, Baby, some stuff is just worth getting up for.”

Oh, boy. Simmons got that Red Team Blush nice n’ bright, and he buried his face back into Grif’s shoulder, his voice coming out a little muffled, “Fuuu- I’m so glad Donut didn’t hear you say that.”

Grif thought for a second, as he lowered his head, and pressed his lips to the bit of bare collarbone that the redhead’s too large t-shirt exposed.

He mumbled, with lips still brushing Simmons’ warm skin, “ _Hmmm_ … Oh, yeah. Heh. I said, ‘worth getting up’, not ‘worth getting _it_ up’… but, hey…,” Grif bit down lightly on the bare flesh beneath his lips, “…that, too.”

“S-St-stop teasing me, asshole!,” Simmons managed to sputter out, biting back another more embarrassing (More _moany_.) noise.

That made Grif chuckle a little darkly, “Hey, man, I never met _anybody_ as fun ta’ ‘tease’ as you. You didn’t really think that’d stop once we got to all this, did you?”

Simmons grumbled to himself. This son of a bitch was too damn smug about ‘all this’. Just cause he _obviously_ had more experience than him…

Not that that was so difficult to do with Simmons embarrassing track record of zero, but still…

What a slutty jerk!

Simmons, once again, -Grif had a way of doing this to him-, didn’t think, but just acted.

He was close enough to just lean forward to Grif’s shoulder…

He bit. Not giving a fuck about the freaking fabric in his way. He just bit that, too. (He really was a _huge_ brat. It was encoded in his DNA.)

Not a nip, or a nibble. Not real painful. Still more on the sexy side of things than anything else, but…

Yep. That was a bite, alright.

Grif grunted in surprise… and, then, he got a bit growly grumbly. He took a couple steps back. Turned his head, and glanced at the door.

And, yes, they really HAD spent what seemed like fucking forever with each other, because Simmons caught on to Grif’s next ploy, and was bitching about it, before the other man even opened his mouth.

“Grif! What the fuck are you doing?,” Simmons slapped at the Hawaiian man’s thick chest, “I’m NOT going to Donut’s room with you! Especially, not with you _carrying_ me like a goddamn little kid! Seriously, Put. Me. Down!”

“Nope. You’re just gonna have ta’ come with me, now. That’s your punishment. ALL the show tunes, Baby, _ALLLL_ of ‘em… Tryin’ to tease _me_ … what a little slut…”

“ _M-ME_?! No, **_you_** \- And, how was that teas- You know what? Fuck it. I don’t care. But, Grif, I swear to God, I. Am. NOT. going to Donut’s Broadway Boulevard Bonanza! Not, again! You can’t make me!” Simmons squawked, and pouted in turn, “And, hey! You fucking started it!... Or wait… Well, whatever, it’s still _your_ fault, dumbass!”

Grif looked like he was seriously thinking that over, and, then, he sighed quietly, and said in his ‘sincere’ voice, “Yeah, man, I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t blame _you_ cause **I’m** fuckin’ awesome, and irresistible…”

Simmons snorted very ‘attractively’ right in Grif’s face.

To which Grif licked the tip of his nose in retaliation.

“Eww! Fucking _gross_! You pig!,” Simmons squealed, as he wiped his nose off on Grif’s shirt.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now, gimme a kiss before I go. Just a little one, though,” Grif warned, “Don’t you get me all worked up, again, you son of a bitch.”

“After you just did **that**? _No way._ Fuck. You. Fuck you, and everything you stand for!”

“Hey, bitch! You leave the Oreos out of this!”

“…”

Simmons didn’t bother to say anything. He figured the _Really, fatass, **really**? For fuck’s sake_ … look on his face summed it up well enough, and totally said all that needed to be said.

But, he gave the idiot a little kiss, anyway. Mostly, just to shut him up at that point.

Well… mostly.

Grif squeezed him as he kissed him back, and, then, he hoped he hid how reluctantly, he leaned down, and deposited the redhead back onto his bunk.

He looked down at him, as Simmons, sitting on the edge of his ( _His_. Grif’s.) bunk looked up…

And Grif had a flash of intense déjà vu. Remembering how the two of them had been just like that earlier that night (Was that the _same_ night? Just hours earlier? It seemed unbelievable.), with Donut and Lopez outside the door...

Before he and Simmons had really figured out what they were even doing. If this was it. Whether they were finally going to just say fuck it, and go for it, or whether they were going to pussy out, and put admitting to whatever the hell this thing was between them on hold for another day… another week… another month…

Grif was glad they hadn’t done that. He was so sick of the exhausting, time-consuming bullshit.

Just because where when they were like this before he couldn’t, and now he _could_ (Christ… no shit. That was fuckin’ **nice**.), he pressed his palms to Simmons’ cheeks, and cupped and lifted his pretty boy nerd’s face up for another last kiss before he went. He really couldn’t seem to stop touching, or kissing him. The Kissass was fuckin’ intoxicating…

It seemed like everything should be perfectly fine. Pretty right with the world at the moment… but, as Grif stepped back, about to go, Simmons felt deep unease, that _rapidly_ grew into deep _fear_ , overtake him.

_What the fuck was he doing_? Why was he letting him go? With what had happened earlier… What if… What if…

His heart actually felt like it cried out to the other man, pled with him to not go at all. Not to take the chance… He was afraid… Simmons wasn’t like other people. Why had he forgotten that?... He was so scared… Because… what if…

He… he had to tell him something… Fuck! He HAD to…

When Simmons opened his mouth to speak, he was internally shocked, at how deceptively calm he sounded. Although, with all the years of concealing what was _really_ going on inside when it really mattered, he, probably, shouldn’t have been.

“Grif…,” he began, slowly.

He was going to do it! Going to tell him… something, at least.

Maybe not, about Richard… That was a lot to take in off the bat…

Maybe, all the blank years? Just that that was a thing?

The fucking ‘memory issues’?…

Something… something…

Grif was looking at him like he wasn’t sure if he should be worried. Like he was seconds from just giving the fuck up, and taking him back into his arms.

“What is it, Baby?,” he asked. His voice low. Almost soothing.

No teasing. No judgment.

Still… Simmons _couldn’t_ do it. He just couldn’t. There were too many factors. Too many probabilities. It was just too _weird_ of a thing to expect someone to accept…

He didn’t want to tell him, and lose him. But, not telling him anything felt very dangerous, too.

Whenever he had _tried_ to tell him something, anything, even the smallest part… everything in him insisted that it was imperative that, _Grif can’t know. He can never know._

And, everything in him still felt that to be true.

So Simmons, feeling he had no choice, redirected to safer ground.

“Grif…,” Even a slight patented Simmons’ scowl graced his features, giving more credence to the idea that the redhead was just his naggy, bossy self, rather than a secretly pleading needy frightened _mess_ , “I know it’s Donut, and once he gets going… but just… don’t be gone all goddamn night.”

After a silent moment, in which Simmons realized that Grif _knew_ that wasn’t what he’d really been going to say, but he’d let him off the hook… Grif smirked at him, “Dude, **you** just don’t go forgetting you’re gonna be owning me more of those ‘samples’…”

_That_ , actually, distracted the redhead from his fears quite well, -Grif was good at that-, and Simmons was suddenly blushing, again.

Had he _really_ called it that? Fuck. He _WAS_ a nerd.

“Think I mighta developed a ‘taste’ for ‘em…,” Grif said, still as smirky as ever, even though he knew the words coming out of his mouth sounded goddamn cheesy as fuck. But, you know, right then, when it was Just Them, and it could get Simmons all fuckin’ cute n’ Red Team Red, he kinda couldn’t give a shit, “So, don’t you go anywhere, or go to sleep, Kissass. I fuckin’ mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” Simmons grumbled, but, then, unable to hide the slight smile, he murmured, in a voice so shy, so very low, Grif barely heard him, “…Alright… ”

And, Grif couldn’t help but give him one last devilish, evil Grif grin before he walked out the door.

❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇

  


As soon as he was sure Grif was on his way down the hall, Simmons was blowing out a breath, and attempting to pull himself together.

It was okay. It was alright. He just needed to chill out. Distract himself for a bit… Maybe he should pick up the room some? Or refold Grif’s laundry? The dumbass always fucked up the creases…

Or…

And, abruptly, the redhead knew _exactly_ what would distract him from his worries, his fears.

He hopped out of bed, and picked up his helmet.

Chuckling a little sneakily to himself without even realizing he was doing it.

He was _sooo_ gonna find out what Grif had been secretly saying to him in his language.

Simmons might have a problem with his memory sometimes, but the things he DID remember? He remembered with Perfect. Fucking. Recall. Word for fucking word, asshole!...

Ummm, anyway…

As Simmons placed his helmet over his head –he _could’ve_ tried to find Grif’s datapad, but he didn’t want to bother with that… or with covering his tracks, although that would be easy enough.

It wasn’t that hard to find a translation app, which immediately, without thought, Simmons saved in a hidden folder. No that wasn’t what took the time.

It was after looking up the words… just processing that Grif, _Grif_ , had said those things to him, and… remembering the look on his face when he’d said them…

Simmons felt a little, erm… overheated, again… and he hoped Grif would be back soon… he was so damn flustered…  
  
Oh fuck, Grif had called him ‘delicious’ * _secretly delighted shiver_ *, and had said he had beautiful eyes, and-and had called him… pretty…

Simmons had always _hated_ that, as he’d grown up being called a ‘pretty boy’, but in a-a _bad_ way, a teasing, derogatory, disgusted, or just furious way. Never… in the way Grif had said it.

And, for once… Simmons thought maybe he frickin’ _liked_ it. Even, though, he’d drunkenly complained at the time. It was- it was nuts considering how the redhead had always felt -been _taught_ to feel- about his looks, but he… son of a bitch… Did he _want_ Grif to see him that way? Not really other people, but Grif? Cause, uh, it… kinda felt like he did…

And, then, there was the question of how Simmons had _known_ that that was what Grif had said in the first place. That he’d called him… pretty… he’d, somehow, known even before he’d looked it up. That was f’n weird… Was it the _way_ Grif had looked at him when he’d said it that had given it away?

Or… maybe, the two of them really were that much on the same wavelength?  
  
Heh. That was a little fucking unsettling considering Simmons’ situation.

And, thinking about all that, how he’d been pretty drunk, although he was sobering up, now, and… ah, fuck that was fricking a little, uugghh, from the parts he could recall, he’d made a hell of a fool of himself, but Grif… Grif had just been so calm, and laid-back, about everything.

Well, except for maybe when Simmons had said sorry, and Grif had gotten a little… _oh, sooo good_ , and, then, all that a little bit ago before Grif left to go to Donut’s room…

Oh fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking about these things…

Simmons really was getting so goddamn worked up, again, at that point it was all he could do not to touch himself. But, oh, he was SO _not_ , abso-fucking-lutely NOT, going to do that in _Grif’s room_. Even if he found a way to somehow successfully hide the evidence, Grif would totally know… Simmons just **knew** he would, and…

Fuck! He was putting _way_ too much thought into something he wasn’t even going to do! He wasn’t! His face was so hot underneath his helmet, he felt like it could fry a mother fuckin’ _egg_ … He had to get his frickin’ helmet off…

But, he was just so damn flustered that when he went to get out of the search that he’d still had open, he, somehow, managed to turn on the Blues radio frequency that he had intercepted earlier that day.

As he was about to turn it back off, -it was getting pretty late, after all-, he heard voices.

And, if Simmons had said it once, he’d said it a million times… he _was_ a naturally curious kinda guy…  


  
**✥ Intercepted by Pvt. Richard Simmons of Red Team:  ✥**  
**Pvt. Lavernius Tucker of Blue Team’s Radio Transmission:**

“-cker… _Tuuuccckkkeeerrr_.”

“Jesus Christ, Church! Shut. The. Fuck. Up. And, STOP poking me.”

“Hey man, I can’t help it if you’re fun to poke.”

“…”

“I didn’t mean it like that… ”

“Yeeeaaah, right…”

“What? No, Bow Chicka- whatever the fuck? Jesus, you’re goddamn grumpy tonight.”

“Well, fuck, Church. How’s about you haunt some other son of a bitch when we’re not screw-“

“Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey… Hey. What’d I tell you? It’s not _technically_ screwing if you’re doing it with yourself. That’s just creative masturbation.”

“Bow Chicka Bow- wait, what? Even in the mind thingy? Because, I can like _totally_ see you there. And, dude, not to be an asshole, or anything?”

“Ah, fuck. Here we go.”

“And I, mean, it’s not like I’m _complaining_ , but I don’t really remember your dick being that big when you were alive…”

“Hey! Fuck you, Tucker! That’s totally the size it’s _supposed_ to be. You think I don’t remember _my own **dick**_? And, we never even fucked back then, so shut the fuck up.”

“I dunno, Dude… It’s almost like you’re remembering a totally different dick than the one I saw in the showers- totally on accident!- before Caboose team-killed you…”

“Can we not TALK about that shit? You insensitive prick. Man, I _died_ , and, now, I gotta be stuck with your lame ass-“

“Dude, fuck you! I’m awesome. All the ladies wanna fuck me. Hell, even, _ghosts_ wanna fuck me… Right, Church? Right?”

“… NO… Shut the fuck up!”

“…”

“… Hey, Tucker?... I was wondering… can I- can I ask you something?...”

“… * _Siiiggghhh_ *. What, now, Church?...”

“Well… shit, man, I was just kinda wondering… Why the hell you keep pokin’ yourself, huh, Tucker? Whyya doin’ it? Why you keep *poke*-*poke*-*POKING*-”

“Yow! STOP making me poke myself –Bow Chicka Bow Wow- in the fucking arm, you sadistic fuck!...”

** ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ **

Simmons snickered a little as he pulled off his helmet. Those damn Blues. No wonder Lopez liked to sneak back over to Red Base whenever he could.

Well, whatever. At least they’d distracted Simmons from… things.

Simmons carefully put back his helmet exactly as it had been.

Although, fuck knows why he bothered. He doubted Grif would notice. But… then, Grif could surprise you, sometimes, and Simmons _really_ didn’t wanna tell Grif he’d looked up the stuff he’d said to him in Hawaiian.

Yeah, _Fuck_. _That_.

One, cause, well, shit, the redhead was blushing just _thinking_ about it. About what Grif had said to him…

And, TWO…

Dammit, he didn’t want Grif fucking it up! Because he _totally_ would. He’d turn it into a joke, or blow it off, or, or… who the hell knows. And, Simmons wanted to, just for a while at least, hold onto those words for what they’d been…

God, he really was such a fucking _girl_ about shit.

Oh, well.

Hmmm. Knowing Donut, and his gossipy tendencies (Grif had _better not_ say anything to the lightish-red soldier to embarrass Simmons. He fucking better not!), Grif really was unlikely to get back in under ten-fifteen minutes…

I, mean, but whatever. It wasn’t like Simmons missed him _already_ , or anything… * _Sigh_ *

Simmons carefully untucked Grif’s blanket, and sheet. Unmaking the bed as neatly as he had made it that morning.

He would just lay down, nice and warm under the covers, and wait for him. It wasn’t like he’d actually _fall asleep_. That was freaking ridiculous…

❇ ❇ ❇ ❇❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇

  


Fuck… The first thought that popped into Grif’s head once he had the door to his room closed, and one pretty Kissass sequestered within its walls, was… Well, shit. Just being honest here?... Was that it was _more_ than a little tempting to take a little detour to the bathroom/showers, and fuckin’ just rub one out… Just so he’d be more able to _relax_ a little bit, for Christ’s sake…

Hmmm… Probably, a really bad idea, though. If he got thinking about that slender little pretty boy, -And, let’s be real here. What the fuck _else_ would he be thinking about right then?-, and how good he’d felt wrapped around him, how the little Kissass had fucking not been able to _help_ getting hard no matter how nervous he was about all of this…

_Mmmm_ … and about all the goddamn sexy, fuck-me noises he made, **especially** once Grif had found one of his sweet spots…

That redheaded son of a bitch could really get him worked up, apparently, -bastard-, so… oh shit, yeah, if Grif took a ‘little detour’ with all the sexual tension, and build-up, so fresh in his brain, he’d probably end up cumming _so goddamn **hard**_ he’d forget what he was supposed to be doing, and barely stumble back to his bed and Simmons to pass the fuck OUT. Hell, maybe, right on _top_ of the Kissass. Smothering him to top it all off.

What a way to end the night.

Mother fuck… yep, it was, for sure, a no-go. And, he figured he had better stop thinking about it before his dick changed his mind for him.

And, honestly, with Simmons _right there_ , just behind the door, it would, without a doubt, be directing him back to the Kissass. To that pretty little son of a bitch.

Definitely, not to some lonely bachelor whack-off in the bathrooms…

He had to think about something else. Like mother fuckin’ NOW.

And, who said cigarettes never helped a dude out?

_Simmons_.

Because, suddenly, the distracting thought occurred to him, the first coherent, non-Simmons related thought, that Grif had had since closing the door between them…, -oh, wouldn’t that have pissed Simmons off that it was about _this_ -, and he realized that he hadn’t had a cigarette in…

When HAD he last had a cigarette? Was it… _that morning_? Holy fuck, it _was_. He’d snuck one in the shower, or, okay  three, but, fuck, he’d _known_ he wouldn’t get to during patrol. Not with Simmons having one of his days.

No matter how distracted the nerd was, on those particular days, it was like he had the senses of _two_ pain in the ass naggy assholes.

But, Grif had his ways around that shit. He wasn’t an _addict_ , as much as a binger…

And, he would NEVER admit that he actually chewed the Nicotine gum Simmons kept buying him, and sneaking in with his laundry -even though he told the nerd not to-…

He liked the Fruit Punch one best. Cinnamon was pretty good too, though.

So, even though he thought about sneaking a quick smoke, he knew Simmons would be **pissed** , and he sure as hell wouldn’t be up to putting his tongue back in Grif’s mouth…

Hmmm… he could always brush his teeth, after his smoke/s, but… the smell would still be on his clothes, and, even if that, somehow, wasn’t the case, knowing Simmons, he’d know regardless, and would be like, ‘Why do you taste like toothpaste… did you smoke? You _smoked_. I fucking TOLD you, you can’t chew the gum, and smoke! You’re gonna have a stroke, you dumbass!’

Okay. So, maybe, Simmons knew he chewed the gum. Dude was like a frickin’ _ninja_ when it came to finding out Grif’s business.

Or… like a fucking wife…

... _Annyywaaay_ … Simmons would so say ALL that shit. So…

Grif would hold off til tomorrow, chew the goddamn stupid gum (That was actually… pretty cool of Simmons… Grif couldn’t always get to his smokes -sometimes, thanks TO Simmons, though, so… so fuck that!), and he’d just chain-smoke like, hm, _four_ in the morning to make up for today.

That important life choice decided, and his cock successfully chilled the fuck out, Grif started to amble along down the corridor headed toward the lightish-red soldier’s room.

But, as Grif neared Donut’s room, he heard him… talking to someone?

Wait. Wasn’t Lopez back at Blue Base for the night?

“ _Heeeeyyyy_! Now, I know you’re grouchy, but there’s no need for that!”

Grif had paused outside Donut’s room, seriously, beyond confused about what the fuck was going on.

In all sincerity, what the fuck?

“Gimmee that back! It goes perfectly with this room’s motif, and if you break it, well, no three coat polish and wax off for you!...”

* _Crash_ * “Uuuuaa! You fellatio-us _fiend_!,” Donut squealed, sounding more excited than angry…

Again. I repeat. What. The. Fuck?...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simmons’ Fear
> 
>   
> 
> 
> …I wish things could be different  
> That it could be just you & me.  
> But, what would I do without him?  
> When he’s been my family... 
> 
> ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ 
> 
> This chapter was chockfull of the guys’ innermost thoughts. It is important to know exactly where their heads are at, right now, and how they feel about each other, as some stuff starts going down.
> 
> Also, I PROMISE I’m not trying to be a huge tease about these guys having sex, (And, once these two _really_ get going in this AU, you may long for these days of comparable innocence! ;p ) but, remember, a lot of this story is already written out, and their first time together is connected to, and affects other very important events in the story. Still, as this particular night draws near to its close, and some big events are headed our way, we are getting closer to the story’s rating changing to Explicit.
> 
> And, yes, Simmons. Everyone has their little secrets. Their little “tricks”, as Grif called it. I had a friend once that said he could distract himself from his dick by doing complicated math problems in his head. Hey, it’s better than the creepy crap, like ‘Think of your Grandma naked’. Frickin’ gross, man! I, mean, yeah, yeah, obviously I GET it. Think of something gross, or tragic, or horrifying, and you can better deal with untimely trouser-tents, and/or won’t be as likely to blow before you want to. But, I liked the idea of Grif’s tragic/horrifying thing being ‘burnt brownies’. More innocent, but still very distracting and sad -Dare I say… tragic :’( ?- to a fatass like Grif.
> 
> Thank you to those of you reading this story! The story, and its themes mean a lot to me, so I truly appreciate it! Much Love!  
> ♡–MissyAnn❀


	11. Donut & LoLo Are Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling like he HAD to say something, if only to get Donut off his ass so he could get back to the Kissass, Grif insisted, “I’m NOT poppin’ any cherries tonight, bitch! And, who the fuck said this was a ‘date’, anyway?”
> 
> Donut looked at him like he was **hopeless** , “‘Poppin'... cherries?’... Isn’t that a thing with a... Don’t you know how this works with a guy, Grif? I thought your first girlfriend... Do I need to explain some things to you? I’m a _veeerrry_ good teacher. I even have visual aids! Ask LoLo. He knows! **Lopez knows all**.”
> 
> {“Do not look at me like that. Puta. It is not weird. Si, Donut is like ‘adopted’, Okay? Remember, it was later... la rosado idiota came into la familia later... Cállate.”}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Pansexuality Confirmed (Nice definition, btw, _Grif_. Geez.), Double O DoLo La Pesado aka Robonuts, **Lopez Knows All** , Hippy Reds 4 The Win!  
>   
> Just a quick note, I know that the mix of Spanish and English for Lopez is a tad different. I do this due to Google Translate being a complete piece of trash. The others are hearing all Spanish when Lopez speaks, except for the very occasional English word Lopez throws in that they will always mention. I actually spend more time on Lopez’s lines then you’d think, as I find just having them purely in English takes away from his character for me, but I don’t want you all having to look up stuff all the time. I just can’t do the incorrect translation deal, with terrible Google Translate Spanish, and the English after it. I can read it on other people’s stories, and it actually never bothers me, but when I’m typing it out myself, the wrong Spanish makes me cringe.  
> I have the lines tested out in Google Translate so you can actually look them up when needed, and have them say the correct thing.

_Grif had paused outside Donut’s room, seriously, beyond confused about what the fuck was going on. In all sincerity, what the fuck?_

_“Gimmee that back! It goes perfectly with this room’s motif, and if you break it, well, no three coat polish and wax off for you!...”_

* _Crash_ *

_“Uuuuaa! You fellatio-us _fiend_!,” Donut squealed, sounding more excited than angry. _

_Again. I repeat. What. The. Fuck?_

Grif wasn’t sure what to do. He had a little deal with the Kissass, and he sure as fuck planned on collecting his payment... well, _more_ of his payment.

But, if Sarge was in there... Could that even... be a thing?

With how pissed off Lopez was at him, and Grif, too, half the time, for some unknown goddamn reason (You’d think he really _was_ programed to hate him, or some shit!)...

Grif fuckin’ hoped not. On all accounts.

“Well, why are you just _standing_ there?,” Donut... pouted?

{“ _Silencio_. No more games. Someone is here. Give me my rifle, estupido. Rojos Padre bleeds esta noche.}

“Slice a what now? _Awww_ , Sweetie, you’re _sooo_ grumpy tonight! Whassamatter?,” the lightish-Red soldier’s voice turned to a purr, “You hungry? Need another round of Donut’s Delightful D-“

Okay. It was them. Well, _fuck this_. Grif rapped on the wall beside the door panel, and called out,“Hey, Dude? Donut? Uh, can I ask you somethin’ real quick?”

“Oh!... I’m _Coooming_... LoLo!,” Donut scolded, as his voice got closer, “Why didn’t you _tell_ me Grif was at the door? You know you have better hearing than me!...”

The door slid open, and there in all his pink and white starburst-patterned tank top, and pale pink booty shorts pajamied glory stood Donut...

_Mmmm_... **Might** just have ta’ get some shorts like that in maroon for the Kissass, sometime... With Simmons’ round little ass, and his loooong legs...

Oh fuck, what? What was he doing, again? Grif had, uh, gotten a little distracted...

Grif glanced around the room, and, yep, there was Lopez, standing near the bunk. A… pink and red... vase?... maybe it had been a vase, shattered on the ground at his feet.

If a robotic man could look pissed, Lopez was doing a damn fine job of it.

{“Dulce Rosado Idiota , I _told_ you. Get me my maldito rifle. Orange blood is as good as Red for Lopez la Pesada esta noche.”}

“What the hell’s _his_ problem?,” Grif asked, warily, although he told himself he didn’t really give a fuck. As long as Donut had put up Lopez’s gun (Grif’d learned to do _that_ , himself, when Simmons was behaving more like his AssholeSimmons self, **forever** ago.)

And, as long as the lightish-Red soldier remembered how to power Lopez down if he got too much chili peppers in his frijoles…

“Why’s he so cranky?,” Grif asked, still sounding cautious. An angry Lopez could be a dangerous Lopez. And, anybody who said a robotic dude couldn’t get pissed could just go suck a dick. _They_ , obviously, had never been used as target practice by one before!, “And why’s he’s even back here tonight? Did Sarge find out about him com-”

Donut made frantic _Hush, he’ll hear you_ motions toward Lopez, literally, right in front of the robotic man’s face.

Then, he smiled sweetly at the metallic Spaniard, and whispered out of the side of his mouth to Grif, “Ahh, I really dunno?! And, _of course_ , Sergeant _You Know Who_ doesn’t know!... But, LoLo’s been a real sourpuss, anyway! Not like him, **at all**. I mean, he actually got to come back to spend most of the night with me like we used to so...”

{“You know I can hear you, Si? Cabrón. And Sergeant ‘You Know Who’? Seriously, Donut? Can you be reprogrammed? Idiota. *Sigh* Okay, Cállate, and listen carefully. You would be pissed, too, if you saw what I saw. If I _ever_ get stuck with another AI possessing and fucking the same body, and I cannot just walk away? I will go quietly insane, and create a robot army to destroy you all... except... maybe estupido Donut. The rosado idiota can continue to be my human slave.”}

Both Grif and Donut just stared at him.

Finally, Donut tilted his head flirtily, and chirped, “ _Awww_ , LoLo! That’s _sooo_ sweet!”

And, poor Lopez rolled robotic eyes at them both in disgust.

Smiling, Donut turned back to Grif. “So, whatcha need- Oh my _gooodness_! How did I not notice sooner! That shirt is _adorbs!_...”

“Oh, fuck,” Grif sighed, “I forgot I was even wearing it...”

“Honestly? Very minimalistic, but _sooo **precious**_. I didn’t know you had  ANY taste, **At. All**. Not to be rude, or anything!,” Donut assured, sounding like he completely believed that to be true, as every accidental rude-ass person always does.

The strawberry blonde leaned closer to look at Grif’s shirt, and the red panda on it.

“Looks like it got a little wrinkled in the chest area, somehow..." (Whoops, uh, that woulda been from Simmons, and his grabby, hungry hands...) "Hmmm… _Wooow_...,” Donut murmured, seeming ridiculously _amazed_ , “It feels like the little guy’s staring straight into my **soul**...”

Did Lopez just grunt in annoyance? Almost, like a fucking _person_? What the shit...

*Delicate Sniff* * _ **Sniiiifff**_ *

Uh-Oh.

“Grif! Have you been _drinking_? And, without mu-wa?... Oh, don’t worry, Sweetie, ” Donut assured Lopez, who seriously?... Didn’t look very worried, “It’s not like that. I wouldn’t do any fun stuff without you, too! You KNOW _that_. Anyway, Grif just doesn’t like to drink alone... Ahhh, honey!,” Donut turned back to Grif, and was off to the races, “Did your little date with Simmons end badly, and, now, you’ve been **pounding** down one after another after another _hard_? Awww! How could he resist you in that cutie-pie ensemble? I know **I** couldn’t!”

Donut tried to wrap his arms around Grif in a gesture of comfort, but... Lopez, -the robot who “couldn’t give two fucks”?- his bionic eyes flicked to Donut’s state of dress, or semi-undress, then, they locked onto Grif, and he took what could be interpreted by some as a menacing step forward. It certainly was construed as nothing less by Grif.

I mean, but _Lopez_ could never care enough to _kill_ anybody, right? Heh-heh... Right?!

“Oh, fuck!,” Grif yelped a little, which was fucking embarrassing as shit, but, hell, he was remembering about Sarge’s plan to equip Lopez with ‘Laser eyes designed to target those ol’ dastardly Blues, and any worthless Orange soma bitches lazin’ about!’

Had he ever gotten around to that? Was that even a thing?! Shit!

Grif disentangled the overly-affectionate scantily clad lightish-Red from himself, and complained, “Dude, seriously, _get off me_. Your boyfriend’s gonna laser my ass.”

Donut giggled, “Who, _LoLo_? Don’t be silly! He’s a big ol’ teddy bear!”

But, the lightish-Red soldier released him, nonetheless.

{“I know where you sleep at night, puta. You play with the broken brother. Leave this one alone.”}

Donut tittered, “Told ya! A TOTAL sweetie _teddy bear_!”

“Suuure...,” Grif agreed, guardedly, as he moved a bit more behind Donut. As if to get out of the robotic man’s line of sight.

“Grif! What’re you doing? You can’t hide behind me!,” Donut laughed merrily, “You’d really need to lose some darn weight before _gettin’ behind_ ol’ Donut!… Heeeehee!”

“ _Uuugghhh_ , yeah, fuck you, too, dude. But, listen, I don’t got time for all your guys’ crap, right now. You remember those beers I stashed here? Well, uh... I need ‘em.”

“Now, Grif,” Donut scolded, gently, “I’m not sure about that! I don’t really like the idea of you moping all night with yourself, playing at how jacked off you can get, and how much can you swallow down! That’s _reeeaaallly_ more of a two or more person game... _Annnyways_ , I know you must be sad about things going bad with Simmons...”

“Hey, fuck you, Donut!,” Grif’s expressive eyebrows did a decent job of conveying the ‘Go die in a hole’ look. Very current. Very vogue. “Why you so sure things went bad, huh?”

“Oh, _weeeellll_...,“ Donut stalled, “Ummm, LoLo? Sweetie? You wanna help me out here?”

{“I hate when you do this estupido trash, Donut. Your translation is mierda.”}

“Ah, Geez Louise! Lopez! Watch your mouth!...,” Donut switched from sounding appalled to apologetic in the space of a heartbeat, “Forgive him! It’s his fiery Latin temper...”

{“Dios give me paciencia. Or my maldito rifle. Either one.”}

Donut grinned at Lopez like he’d said something quite cute, but when he turned back to Grif he simply _blurted_ out, “Grif, it’s just that you suck at this stuff! Suck sooo _haaard_ at it!”

“Suck at... _what_?,” Grif huffed, offended, but still pretty fuckin’ leery. This _was_ Donut, after all. Fuck knows where he could be going with this...

“At the whole ‘getting Simmons’ thing, or whatever…”

“ _Oh yeah_?,” Grif glared at the oblivious, ‘just trying to help’, lightish-Red soldier.

To be honest, Grif actually was kinda _genuinely_ insulted. It wasn’t like he’d been _trying_ that hard to snag any Kissass nerds before now, goddammit! Or, really, trying at all, exactly. He’d just, sorta, been...  keepin’ an eye on the Kissass, sometimes, or whatever...

But, only because _some_ soma bitch had to do it! Mother fuck! Son of a- He had ta’ do every fucking thing...

Grif informed the two assholes, one flesh, one robotic, as he squinted his eyes a little challengingly at them, “Bitch is in my bed, _Right. Fuckin’. Now_.”

Ah man... Simmons would kick his _ass_ if he knew he’d called him a ‘bitch’ in that context. And, uh... also... if he knew he just up, and _told them_ that the redhead was in his bed... Oops. Well, fuck, Grif wasn't ashamed of it, or of being with the Kissass, _either_ , so-

{“...If I cared, I would be muy impressed. But, I do not, so leave us alone.”}

“...Uh ...really?...” Donut sounded doubtful.

“Really,” Grif confirmed, stoically, but with a tacked on, “Asshole”, for good measure, that kind of ruined the effect.

Donut was silent for a long moment.

Searching Grif’s face.

When the Hawaiian gave him one curt, affirmatory nod, the lightish-Red soldier **screeched** _indignantly_ , and accused, “So you weren’t drinking alone, you _**big fat fibber**_!”

{“And, so it begins...”}

“HEY! Fuck you, man!,” Grif tried to defend himself, “I never said...”

“ _SHUT UP_!,” Donut bitched at him, as he threw his arms melodramatically into the air.

“But-“

{“Don’t bother, brother. When he gets this way... It will be over faster, if you let him do his estupido Donut thing.”}

“Dexter Grif! You _can’t_!,” Donut squealed, angrily, “Not when he’s drinking! Is he actually _drunk_?!”

“NO!... Okay, _sorta_. But, he’s **totally** sobering up. He’s not even _really_ drunk, anymore, man!... Hmmm... Fuckin’ weird... Don’t know how the fuck he does that... He was pretty smashed... Must be that ‘Latin’ blood...”

{“Cabron.”}

“Yeah, yeah. Lopez, come on, man. Don’t _you_ start giving me crap, too, dude! Anyway, Donut, Chill. The. Fuck. Out. It’s cool. We’re just... ya know, hangin’ out n’  stuff... Dammit... Fuck, man, I’m not gonna-“

“That’s what they _aaaallll_ say! You _**sinner**_!,” Donut cried out, theatrically, “Messing around is ONE thing, but penetrative sex! And, with an innocent like Sims?!...”

Grif completely lost track of what Donut was saying... Did that son of a bitch just say... ‘ _penetrative sex_ ’? Jesus. Way ta’ paint a picture, man. What the fuck-

But, Donut was going on. Catching Grif’s attention, again.

“ -on your guys’ first date? Probably, if I know anything about Sims, and his past... his first date, _ever_! He could hate you in the morning, you know! You, you-”

Grif was _almost_ completely thrown off guard by that ‘ _Sims, and his past_ ’ deal.

The idea that... did Donut know stuff about Simmons that he didn’t?

But, ultimately, he couldn’t focus on that, at the moment. Not with Donut so _up his ass_ \- oh, fuck. That’s not what he meant. But, hadn’t he TOLD the nerd this could happen? That Donut would get all protective of Simmons, and mad at _him_?

Feeling like he HAD to say something, if only to get Donut off his ass so he could get back to the Kissass, Grif insisted, “I’m NOT poppin’ any cherries tonight, bitch! And, who the fuck said this was a ‘date’, anyway?”

Donut looked at him like he was **hopeless** , “‘Poppin'... cherries?’… Isn’t that a thing with a... Don’t you know how this works with a guy, Grif? I thought your first girlfriend... Do I need to explain some things to you? I’m a _veeerrry_ good teacher. I even have visual aids! Ask LoLo. He knows! **Lopez knows all**.”

{“Do not look at me like that. Puta. It is not weird. Si, Donut is like ‘adopted’, Okay? Remember, it was later... la rosado idiota came into la familia later... Cállate.”} “

Grif tried again, using more technical terms, and less gangsta talk. In his estimation, anyway. He said slowly, and clearly, “I’m. Not. Gonna. Fuck. Him, Donut.”

But, just hearing himself say that, he got pissed all over again! That he, a grown ass man, was being given the third degree about acceptable sex, and “dating”, practices from _Donut_.

He burst out, “Jesus Christ, you nosy fuck! Simmons would lose his shit if he knew we were talking about this- And hey, this is some bullshit, _anyway_. Did I come in here sayin’ ‘give me the fuckin’ lube I just  know you must have?' No. I. Didn’t. Maybe I _thought_ of it...”

Oh, mouth. Really? Did you _really_ have to sell me out like that? Fuck you, man. Seriously. _Fuck. You._...

And, _hey_ , it’s not like there weren’t natural lube alternatives right there in the kitchen “pantry”, or whatever they called it... And, Grif was going to make a quick stop there on his way back, _anyway_...

No, no! Don’t think about that...

“...But I have _some_ goddamn self-control,” Grif went on, totally pretending he hadn’t nearly had a lapse in his so-called control over himself, as well as his one-track mind dick. _Fuuuck_ , he wanted the Kissass **so _bad_** … “At least, when it comes to the shit that **really** matters, _Donut_. So, get off my back, dude. I’m being careful, _alright_. And, I’m not gonna, you know, like, _fuck_ fuck him. Dammit!”

_Right now_, Grif added silently to himself.

Donut cocked his head at the other man. He had calmed down completely during Grif’s tirade and/or explanation of the facts. He, suddenly, wasn’t sure what he’d been so worried about. Under all his rude, crude exterior, Grif was really a gentle soul. In Donut’s estimation, anyway.

So Donut smiled forgivingly at him, and sing-songed. “I know what you’re _thiiink-iiing_.”

“No you don’t. Shut your face,” Grif grumbled.

“Oh, yes, I do! You’re basically thinking, ‘But I will later’. Right? _Riiight_?”

“What the fu-,” Grif’s mouth fell mouth in shock, but he recovered pretty quickly, and bitched, “Donut, shut the fuck up!... Fuckin’ Hive Mind bullshit…”

“ _Awww_ , what do you expect from a **S** ecret **P** al **T** hat **U** nderstands **T** he **O** ther? Huh?,” Donut pulled out that undercover spy/code “nickname” -that Grif had tried to forget- for their “secret friendship”, as he fluttered his –were those _ tinted eyelash extensions_?- Damn. Looked pretty frickin’ good, actually. Not that Grif’d say that in front of Sir. Jealous-o-Bot over there. Or, at all. “ **SPTUTO** s for life, right Grif?”

“Oh, mother fuc-”, Grif muttered, but, then, he _scowled_ (A very Simmons-worthy scowl, at that. The Kissass’d be proud.), “And, hey! Wait a minute. You know what? Back the fuck up a sec. Just who the hell do you think you are, huh? The goddamn hook-up police? Officer _Hot Pants_ , my ass-”

“Hush you!... Now, lemme get your booze so you can go back, and give it to your little Honey.” Donut gave him the biggest, sunniest white smile.

{“Detener ese, Donut. You look like you are going to bite. I thought it was confirmed that the broken brother is the biter.”}

Grif didn’t even seem to hear the robotic man, but, instead, complained to the lightish-Red soldier, “Well, shit, Donut! Now, you made me feel weird. I’m not sure I _wanna_ go back, anymore… Congradu- fucking- lations. You’ve made me feel like a goddamn pervy creep…”

“Oh, don’t give me that!,” Donut scoffed, and did an adorable little hair flip. Christ, even _his_ hair had gotten kinda long. Two inches past his ears, and that was when it was all naturally wavy, like it normally was. If he straightened it, which he did once in a while, it would, likely, be down to his shoulders.

Red Team. They were all secretly a buncha freaking long-haired hippies. Ha!

Oh, Sarge’d try to make them _allll_ shave their heads if he ever heard anyone actually say that…

And, Grif should NOT even, jokingly, think about that.

Grif would _lose his shit_ before he let anyone forcibly cut his goddamn hair, again ( And, he would _**never**_ let anyone cut Simmons' frickin' too pretty chick hair, again, either… _Ever_... Fuck it. OR, the Rookie's.).

It would get nasty as hell, before he'd lay down like a fucking dog, and just _take it_ like a little bitch. They were their own freaking people! They weren’t frickin’ automatons… Fuck, he hated all of this uniformity crap... He'd be slovenly as shit just to spit in the whole concept's mother fuckin' eye!...

But, alright... Grif needed... He needed ta' chill. It was... seriously, it- it was alright. Nobody was making them get **shorn** , anymore, to "discourage individuality, and encourage conformity". Sure, it was weird that Sarge was actually being sorta... cool?... * _Shudder_ * That word, and Sarge... Like jumbo shrimp or military intelligence (Don't let the Kissass ever hear him say that.).

But, yeah, it was odd alright, that the CO was okay with it, but... Well, he was ‘okay with it’ as long as they always kept their hair tied back, even under their helmets, while on duty. Otherwise, there’d be _hell_ to pay.

Even, SARGE’S hair wasn’t regulation length, anymore.

Although, his idea of ‘long hair’ on a ‘superior officer’ was laughable. An inch past reg. on a CO was “Pushin’ it, dirtbags,” he’d grunted at Grif and Simmons.

Then, there’d been King Kissass Simmons, once he and Grif’d been alone on patrol, again, boo-hooing about, whether or not, his wannabe Pappy Sarge had called him a “dirtbag”.

Until, Grif had, finally, gotten so annoyed with all the whining, and interrupting of his precious nap-time, that he’d assured the Kissass that, “Of course not, _nerd_. Don’t be an idiot. He was calling ME Dirtbag **twice** for fuckin’ good measure, dude. Got it?”

“Y-You think? I mean, that DOES kinda make more sense…,” the Kissass had murmured, hopefully, as Grif was already drifting off to sleep.

And, all had been right in the land of Nerdtopia, within the waters of Kissassopolis for a time…

But, really, Grif shouldn’t, and really _didn’t_ , fuck with the Kissass about this whole deal, in particular, cause the real truth was that Grif was pretty damn sure that it _was_ Simmons that had talked Sarge into some kind of Blues= Short Hair Pussies, Reds= Long Hair Warriors shit.

You learned a lot about what went on in Sarge’s head, whether you wanted to or not, due to his habit of mumbling to himself like a flippin’ nutball (Although, uh, Simmons did that, too. A LOT.), and, also, due to how much the Red leader used to **loudly** talk to Lopez about whatever popped into his manic mind. And, apparently, according to Sarge’s ramblings, most of the Blues he’d ever run across had short hair, -although, obviously, not that Blue Tucker with the dreads-... so maybe that had had a little something to do with him going along with Simmons' little scheme…

The redhead could be surprisingly sneaky, and rebellious when he _really_ had his heart set on something. Rarely. But, it was always a fucking treat for Grif to see.

And, hey, whatever worked. Sarge could be superstitious, while insisting he _wasn’t_ superstitious, and was just not taking a chance that NOT being super-

Oh, screw it.

_Jesus_. Despite Grif getting so distracted thinking about Red Team _hair care_ , of all freaking things, Donut was **still** going on. Chattering away like a fuckin’ little magpie, “–and the _very_ idea! It’s _ridiculous_! Like, **anything** , could ever keep you away from your beloved Sims… You, and Simmons? You’ll, totally, always be together in the end… Anything else? Pfft… is just beyond silly! I know you guys better than _that_. I know  you better than that. I mean, if anyone knows you, it’s your SPTU-”

“Dude, STOP! Don’t say it! I gotta get OUTTA here. Holy shit, just get me the beer, and I’ll GO already! I’ve been gone _forever_. Ah fuck, Simmons is gonna be **pissed**... Oh, and, uh, Donut? I’m being really serious, dude. Don’t say that in front of other people. That SPIT-U2, stuff? For real, man. It sounds kinda fuckin’… weird…”

“Of _cooourse_ not,” the lightish-Red soldier promised, in a voice overflowing with sincerity, “That’s why ‘Secret’ is in the name, Grif! Don’t you worry, Ol’ Donut knows how to keep his men under covers!”

Donut turned on his heel to get the beers, which he, also, had hidden under his bunk, -Real original there, Donut-, but Lopez stopped him.

A robotic hand pressed, quite carefully, against his chest.

{“Donut. Stop. The glass.”}

With slow, measured movements that could almost be called… gentle?... What the hell?... the metallic man picked the strawberry blonde right up off his feet. Just swept him up to protect him from the glass, and placed him cautiously down onto the bed.

Then, seemingly ignoring the kiss the lightish-Red soldier blew to him, as well as Donut’s loving purr of, “Sweetie, don’t scratch your paint”, Lopez started to clean up the glass so that he could get to the beers himself.

Grif thought it all seemed oddly frickin’… _tender_ , and unthinkingably… almost… _caring_ coming from the robotic man.

And, Grif couldn’t help but wonder just _what in the hell_ went on behind closed doors around this freaking base…

So fuckin’ strange.

But, then… he thought about the pretty Kissass,… waiting for him behind his _own_ closed door… probably all curled up in his bed… He thought of all that had happened between them, and all that _would_ happen between them, at some point or another, behind that closed door, and…

And, uhm, anyway, _yeeeaaahhh_ , **Lopez** … Let’s, uh, let’s think about that robot guy…

Grif HAD to focus on something other than that sexy little nerd waiting for him, or he’d just take off back to him, beers or no, and, then Simmons’d probably be pissed, or at least, naggy as fuck ( _Couldn’t Grif ever complete **any** task, Blah, Blah, Blah_ …)…

*Internal Sigh of ‘What have I gotten myself into with this bossy, pretty nerd that I’m _never_ gonna be able to untangle, or even WANT to untangle, my damn obsessed-ass self from, now?’*

A _long_ sigh, indeed…

…Yeah, but, uh, _anyway_ , that Lopez dude, yeah, him…

He was a hell of a puzzle. He’d never been one to fall into any of their expectations about how a robot, or “non-organic man” should act.

One time, Grif had actually asked Lopez about it. About what his deal was. Why he was _different_ than the other robots you saw, or heard about.

More… human.

It had seemed like Lopez’d just been _waiting_ for someone to ask.

And, he’d gone on some long-ass furious tirade… in Spanish, of freaking course… fuck knows why Grif had let himself expect anything else…

When he, finally, fell silent, Grif had replied, thoughtfully, “ _Sooo_ , I guess it’s… just one of those… things, huh? A real mystery…”

Lopez had started shooting at Grif’s feet.

Luckily for him, Simmons and Donut had come running over to break it up. Simmons panicking, and yelling at _Grif_ as if it was _his_ damn fault he was being shot at (“ _Griiif_! You know better than to antagonize him!”), and Donut somehow scolding and _crooning_ to the metal Spaniard at the same time (“LoLo, Honey, Sweetie-pie, we’ve _talked_ about this! Out in the open? Where any innocent passerby could get _splattered_?! Tch. If you _need_ to shoot a load off, you gotta wait until you’re with your partner in the approved of designated areas…”)

Grif sighed, as he forced himself to focus on the present. It was strange… he felt sorta… _nostalgic_ , or some shit, tonight. So many memories. His mind was jumping all over the damn place. Maybe, it was cause… him and Simmons were finally getting somewhere… maybe he was trying… to _understand_ how in the hell they’d gotten there in the first place, so it didn’t all fuckin’… slip away…   
  
So goddamn lame.   
  
But, it had happened to him before, and just- just within himself? His own thoughts? He _really_ wasn’t sure he could take that, again. And, not with ~~Simmons~~ …er, uh, the _Kissass_.

No… NOT. With. **Him**.

He’d almost fucking _lost it_ when he thought it was happening earlier. When he thought Simmons was going to back off, change his mind about them…

Leave him.

Ah, man. Maybe he’d _really_ spent too much of his life being shot at (Like seriously. It was getting a little ridiculous at this point.), and it was turning him into a frickin’ hardcore emotional ass sap.   
  
All he knew for certain?   
  
Was he needed to get the hell back to the pretty boy nerd all curled up in his bed. _His bed_. Like right fuckin’ NOW.

Grif shifted in agitation. Come on, already! Why’d Lopez have to be such a goddamn perfectionist! Screw the damn glass. He could finish cleaning it up after Grif was back in bed with his Kissass all wrapped around him, again…

Grif wasn’t sure how he’d _ever_ handle Simmons not being in the same bed with him every night now that they’d, er, whatever this thing was with them... He really **was** greedy, and he wanted that annoying Kissass **with** him, and all to himself.

Grif could, at least, admit that to his own damn self.

_Hmmm_ … _**May-be**_ , the Kissass’ room would have a little “accident”, and be made uninhabitable… Hey, Grif could fight dirty if he had to… Shit. He really _was_ terrible. But, eh, he didn’t bother to really give a fuck.

I, mean, dude! Simmons was _actually_ secretly all cuddly as fuck in bed, even  without and before the sex, and Grif had never got to have that before. As a super-secret, he’d kill anyone who opened their liar mouth about it, cuddly fuck himself, he _knew_ to appreciate that. It sucked like a mother fucker to be with someone who said, “… _I can’t sleep when you’re touching me, Honey_ …”

Even, if it was freaking understandable, or whatever. Hell, some people were light sleepers, and it wasn’t like it was personal, he guessed… It was still frickin’ _lame_ , though.

But, it was totally different with Simmons. The couple times the redhead had wrapped around him, or laid, half-dozing, with his head on his chest, Grif had felt, more than thought, 'Yes, yes, _this_ is how it’s supposed to be. This feels fuckin’ _right_.'

And, son of a bitch, he **really** wanted to get back to that…

Couldn’t that asshole get to the beers, yet?

“Lopez, come on, man,” Grif sounded a little edgy, and like he wanted to GO. Shit, and he really _did_ still have to stop by the kitchen, and grab some stuff for them to munch on. He was _starving_ , and Simmons needed to eat more frickin’ food, too, whether he liked it, or not. That son of a bitch lost weight WAY too goddamn easily…, “I really gotta get back, dude. I don’t want him to escape…”

“Grif!,” Donut cried out in absolute **shock** , his eyes flying up to meet Grif’s, a beautifully pale pink french tip manicured hand pressing to his chest in a gesture that wordlessly screamed, _Oh, my goodness GRACIOUS, you FIEND!_.

Oh, shit. Did he _say_ that out where any-damn-one could hear, rather than _think_ it in his head? Grif hadn’t meant to do that.

Donut, for the handful of minutes it took Lopez to clean up the glass, had been idly working on his latest project; some pink and brown (Evidently, in solidarity with Lopez.) crocheted applique flowers.

While, Grif had sat in the same chair he had before, with the crocheted pillow that showed off Donut’s _pink and red_ applique flowers…

It had, seemingly, been a big… vase, (Grif still didn’t know what the hell the pink and red swirled piece of glass had been exactly, or where the hell Donut had gotten it.), and Lopez was a huge stickler for everything being done _juuust riiight_ , so it seemed to be taking **forever** to take care of…

And, to be blunt, if the strawberry blonde’s endless _moans_ that you could hear coming out of his room when these two got going were anything to go by, Lopez’s attention to detail, apparently, extended to the bedroom, as well.

Even, Sarge didn’t go anywhere NEAR Donut’s room, or even that side of the _Base_ when those two were going at it.

The kitchen was near Donut’s room, though, so Grif just grinned, well, grimaced, and bore it. At least, he could raid the food stores in relative peace when they were doing whatever it was they did, so that was a win.

And, oh, yeah, Sarge knew, alright. About Donut and Lopez. Of course, he was, during this particular time, under the impression that Lopez was stuck at Blue Base, and the CO wasn’t aware of Lopez and Donut’s trysts, or... _whatever_ they were.

But, anyway, that was all really beside the point, other than the fact that **Donut** , who wasn’t exactly as, uhm, let’s say, as naïve and inexperienced as Simmons, for example, had sat up on his bunk, sounding and looking as appalled, horrified, and **fascinated** as a  virgin in a Taiwanese brothel..., “Did you _lock_ him in your room?!”

“No!,” Grif scoffed, and quickly denied, but then... “ _Uhhh_...  maybe?”

“GRIF!”

{Lopez looked up. “Smooth, Hombre. Smooth.” Then, back to his task.}

“Hey, fuck you, Lopez! For… whatever… you said. And, chill the hell out, Donut! He knows the goddamn code! Don’t get your panties in a twist…”

{“Dulce Rosado Donut… he does not always wear these ‘panties’. But, mostly, the bonita idiota does not keep them on long enough to get ‘twisted’. They do seem to get… what is this word? Si, Si. **Torn** …”}

Grif had no idea what Lopez had said (Although, he coulda _sworn_ the last word had been ‘ _torn_ ’, but  that couldn’t be right...), and he hadn’t bothered to spare him much more than a glance this time, but, holy shit, was that a hint of a _smirk_ in the metallic man's normally quite measured, robotic tone? Fuckin’ _weird_. Dude was in a _mood_ tonight.

Grif shook his head, and continued, “It was just to protect him, -er, uhm, **what-ever** -, from _you_ assholes, or _Sarge_ barging in while I’m gone. Huh! It’d be just like that son of a bitch to decide tonight’s the night we just GOTTA do some moonlight attack…”  
  
It didn't matter if the sun never seemed to fuckin' set. Since when had _any_ of Sarge's plans made any damn sense?  
  
Now, Grif actually did a fairly decent Sarge impression. Not many people knew this, but Grif wasn’t too bad at getting all sarcastic, and doing different voices, and accents. He didn’t do it for just _anyone_ , though. Normally, just for Kai, and, now, Simmons, sometimes.  
  
Ya know, people that appreciated it.  
  
One time, months ago, after Sarge had shot down _another_ one of Simmons' plans of attack against the Blues, the redhead had been really down about it, and Grif, sick of seeing him so depressed, had given in to himself, and done a mocking, biting impression of the CO that was so on the nose that the Kissass had laughed out loud before he remembered he was supposed to be teacher's pet.  
  
So, to make up for his lapse, he'd socked Grif in the arm... _buuut_ , then, like he couldn't fucking _help_ it, he'd squeezed Grif's bicep, affectionately, then... **_curiously_**. Like he was fascinated with the solid muscle under the chub.  
  
Situations like that one were the reason Grif bitched to himself about how Simmons was a tease without _meaning_ to be a tease, and how he didn't _really_ understand how his actions affected other people...  
  
Grif had **almost** yanked the pretty boy nerd against him. He was SO close to just going for it... But Simmons must have sensed it, and, of course, freaked out, because he suddenly had to go, 'uh-uh, do something...'  
  
_Hmmm_... Grif was so relieved by the simple fact, which really wasn't simple, at all, but fucking HUGE, that Simmons hadn't bailed on him _this_ time, and had, fucking _finally_ , let this thing between them get on track already, that, well hell, apparently, he was, actually, in the mood to inform Donut and Lopez of the newest idiot 'plan' of their CO's in his 'Sarge voice', “Listen here, dirtbags! It's the _perfect_ plan! Those dastardly ol’ Blues’ll be _sooo_ busy howlin’ at that _disgustin'_ blue moon a’ theirs, that they’d ne’ er ‘spect the proud, the strong, the **Reds** , strengthened by the light of the Red people’s _Almighty Sun_ , ta’ attack!’...”

Grif chuckled a little scornfully, and continued in his own voice, “I _honestly_ can’t believe that crazy son of a bitch hasn’t come around looking for Simmons, and fucked it all up, somehow... Oh, shit! I just jinxed it, didn’t I?”

{"Probably, Si. But, Muy Bueno Rojos Padre voice, hermano. You sounded enough like him, I wish to shoot you in your puta face."}

“No, no...,” the lightish-Red soldier pursed his lips, and tapped his chin a bit nervously, “ _Looook_... earlier? Right before LoLo came (Groans from the Peanut Gallery. Especially, because, as Simmons was fond of saying, ‘That doesn’t make sense!’), um, Sarge came, too? He wanted Simmons, though... He was calling his name... _louder_ and **louder**. Uhhh, I’m surprised you didn’t hear... you two must’ve been _reeeaaallly_ wrapped up inside with each other...”

{“Madre de Dios. Such un cerdo. So linda, though.”}

For a second, Grif looked like his brain had almost completely ceased to function.

Just little brain blips here and there.

So much... fucked up... in all that... dunno where... to start...

His mind settled on the most important thing of all. Someone, no not just _someone_ , **Sarge** , trying to steal Simmons from him!

Obviously, so he could have the redhead kiss his ass about some wackadoo plan the insane CO had come up with, and, _then_ , get Simmons to shore up that plan with a _better_ one that Sarge would, then, take full credit for.

Oh, son of a mother fucking cock-sucking bitching **asshole**!

Suddenly, it really _Pissed. Grif. Off._

“That fuck!,” Grif spat, instantly fuming pissed (Too pissed to think of the shotgun with his name practically engraved on it), “Simmons isn’t even supposed to be on duty! We’re done for the night! Man, and the dude had a shit day, again! _No_. Fuck this. Do you fucking hear me? I said NO. Where is he? Where’s the old man? I’m gonna talk to him.”

“…And, I, uh,” Donut continued, as if there had been no interruption. Only, now, he sounded, and looked, a tad ashamed. A rare sight, “… distracted him with plan about the Blues… but I told him if he wants it to work he has to sleep until 0800 hours with the ashes of blue jay’s feather, -not the _bird_ , just the feather!- under his pillow, and an unopened bottle of grenadine in his-”

“Oh shit,” Just as quickly as he’d been infuriated, Grif crowed in delight, “So fuckin’ retarded! He still thinks you’re a fuckin’ voodoo priestess, or some shit! Ha!”

“Well, w-well, who told him that Grif!,” Donut pouted, and then he mumbled, “I _just_ wanna be a Secret Agent, or Officer Hot-Pan-!”

Grif quickly cut him off, “Hey, man. I don’t give a fuck what wacky shit he believes. That got us outta duties for a whole _day_ while Sarge tried to get Command to send him, _and tell him_ what gris gris was. Heh. So stupid.” Ah. He could say that when Simmons wasn’t around… Oh, fuck! Simmons!, “Dudes, I gotta g-”

“I know, I know, you gotta go…,” Donut sat up on his knees on the edge of the bed, grinning, as Lopez _finally_ handed him the beer, and he passed it over to Grif, “…but, _at least_ , tell me you played him that song? I, even, had LoLo listen to it. You know, Grif. The SONG. Grey Area? You did, right?”

As Grif took the carton, he looked kinda confused. Like he’d purposely blocked that out, even though he had _just_ been thinking about it, earlier.

When clarity hit, he growled, not as sexy as Simmons * _Shrug_ *, but a growl, nonetheless, “What? What the- Hell, NO! Donut, I told you, it’s-“

{“That song was muy gay.”}

“Did he just say ‘ _GAY_ ’?,” Grif was a tad aghast, “I swear to GOD he just said ‘gay’! See! Even the gay robot thinks it’s gay!”

{“No soy gay. Soy ‘not into labels’. You know this one?”}

Grif caught the words ‘no’, ‘gay’ and ‘labels’, and he just had to take a goddamn second to glare at Donut.

Like really, Dude? _Really_ …  
  


**❃ Donut and Grif’s Drunken Get Together: Extended Edition ❃**  


_“… Ah, Jesus Fuck,” Grif swore._

_“I KNOW, right! It’s s-so, s-so perfeeect,” Donut almost **cried** in his utter joy. _

_Grif just groaned his ass off, bitched about how gay the song was, told Donut to STOP singing along, but… but he listened… And, only got **more** bummed out, cause, well, fuck his goddamn lame ass life. And, this  stupid lame ass song. And, **oblivious** lame ass Simmons… he could go on and on and on…_

And, so he did.

“Look, bitch… this song?”, Grif stopped for a second to gather his drunken thoughts, and wished he hadn’t when more words to the song washed over him.  
  


♫ Are we off, are we on? Is it right, is it wrong? 

♫ Is that it, is there more? Are we here? Are you sure? 

♫ Not enough, or too far? Do we know what we are?

Grif shook his head, and continued, trying to make Donut Get. It. in the most politically correct way possible, “Alright, here’s the deal, man… this song is fuckin’ _GAY_ as balls, dude!”

There. Totally not offensive. In Grif-drunk-speak, anyway.  
  


♫ These blurry boundaries got me all confused

♫ Who sets the limits? Do you choose? Do I choose 

♫ Just need to know which way we're heading here,

♫ Is something happening yet? Let's be clear…

Donut stopped singing, literally cutting himself off at the end of the last line to another verse like he’d _planned it that way_ … Tricky little fuck.

“…Uhhh, the song is… buuut Grif aren’t _you_ ga-”

“No! I’m not fuckin’ ‘ _gay_ ’, bitch!”

Donut looked at him for a moment, head cocked like a curious little bird, and then, he leaned forward, and patted Grif’s shoulder, kindly, “ _Suuure_ , buddy. I believe you!”

Grif huffed in genuine annoyance, “Fuck- You don’t- Don’t _pity_ believe me, you son of a bitch! Fuck that ‘gay’, ‘not gay’ shit. Fuck LABELS, man. I HATE that shit! **Nobody** tells _me_ what the fuck to do, goddammit! If I wanna fuck a chick, I can fuckin’ fuck a chick. If I wanna fuck a DUDE, same goes. If I wanna… a guy that’s like a chick… a chick that’s… like a guy…”

He trailed off.

Oh, Grif was DRUNK. He was just spilling out _aaalll_ the deets.

Donut _loooved_ it.

“Ohhh, you’re one a _those_ ,” Donut nodded understandingly, and smiled brightly at him, “Well, that actually makes sense, then!”

Grif just grumbled lazily at him, gazing deeply, and forlornly into his empty glass like it would magically refill itself if he looked at it long enough.

“Ahhh, honey! Come, and cheer up! You know you’ll feel better once you, and Simmons are **really** together. You’re one of those kind of guys that need to be taken care of. _I’d_ do it as a friend, but…,” Donut lowered his voice conspiratorially, “LoLo is really _veeerrry_ jealous! It’s that fiery Latin temper, you know!”

Grif snickered, instantly cheered up by the ridiculously funny idea of LOPEZ being ‘jealous’. It was so frickin’ ludicrous that Grif was completely distracted from his previous thoughts.

Grif rolled his eyes, as Donut poured them each another glass (Ha! It worked!), “Yeah, man, _suuure_ , that Lopez, he, uh, really seems like the possessive, really gives two shits, ‘jealous’ type, dude.”

Donut bobbed his strawberry blonde head in serious agreement, “Oh, yes. He _really_ is.”

❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ ❃ 

  
Well, one thing was for certain. It seemed like Donut had been telling the truth about the robotic Spaniard. Lopez really _was_ all possessive over the lightish-Red soldier. Somehow. Like that even made sense. But, like he’d thought before, **Lopez** , himself, didn’t make a lot of sense…

But, still, that was beside the point! That son of a bitch, Donut, and his big mouth was the problem here. It was really a pain in the ass being friends with- I, mean, fuck! Not **friends**. Just, um, like passing acquaintances, or some shit.

And, speaking of, or thinking about - _what-the-fuck-EVER_ \- that obviously over-sarcastic, even though you had no clue what the fuck he was saying, _Lopez_ …

“Donut, you son of a bitch. You _told_ him about that, man?”

Donut tittered, “Now, Grif! I’m always willing to be opened up when it comes to LoLo! You oughta _know_ that, by now.”

Jesus Christ. Too much information.

…Fuck it. He gave the hell up.

“* _Siiiggghhh_ *… Yeah, yeah. Man, I give up. I’ll see you clowns, later,” Grif lazily sketched a ‘See Ya’ in Donut and Lopez’s direction, and turned to go.

As he started to make his way back to his room (And Simmons), he _may_ have gone at a slightly quicker pace than his usual meander, or stroll.

But, sure enough, he could still hear the unlikely pair, as they, immediately, started up with their bickering or flirting, or fuck knows with those two.

“Now, as for _you_ my naughty, naughty robot! Come here to me. I have _juuust_ the thing to put the pep back into your step!” Donut half-promised, half-warned, as if the metallic man had _actually_ been “pep”py beforehand.

{“Estupido, Donut. Put. The. Sticker. Book. Away. It took a week to remove the last perros y gatos playing with this, how do you say… ‘Beach balls’. Disturbing.”}

“Ooooh, you want one with _baaalls_. Well, then! Why didn’t you just _saaay_ so, Sweetie? Let me just put away my Lisa Franks, and get out my Adults Only one. We better be _careful about where we stick it_ , though…” Donut giggled a little maniacally, his voice fading as Grif got further away.

{“I said NO… Idiota… Mi pequeña esclava, now, you pay tribute.”}

The last thing Grif heard before a combination of him getting too far away, and the pair, seemingly, becoming ‘distracted’ with each other, was Donut yelping, but still giggling, “ _Yiiipes_! LoLo! Watch the hair, watch the hair!”

Even though, he didn’t know what Lopez’s end of all that had been, the Hawaiian snorted, anyway. What a coupla fuckin’ nuts…

Shit! He had to grab the food, and get back to his _own_ nut. And, hell if Grif knew why he kept worrying about _this_ , in particular, when it hadn't really been THAT long, but…

Fuck, he hoped that pretty lil' son of a bitch was still awake…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Sam Tsui Grey Area with Lyrics, again, as we got more of the song in this chapter!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hf2klHvD840)
> 
> [ Donut’s current project. He hasn’t figured out what to do with them, yet. Maybe, crochet some beanies to put them on?](http://c15030077.r77.cf2.rackcdn.com/product-original-32688-4912-1337866826-d30820f6bb2ce194526581fbfca860e7.JPG)
> 
> [ Maybe, something like this?](http://coolblackppt.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Hats-crochet-hats-hot-pink-crochet-hat-with-pink-crochet-flower.jpg)
> 
> [ A reminder of the crocheted pillow now that I know how to do hyperlinks!](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/48/60/6b/48606be3c0823119675ca7f2c2f4bc65.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> And, wait a minute. Does Donut know more about Simmons than he’s telling? Grif, probably, should’ve questioned him on that, right then, instead of putting it off… _You know_ , Donut can’t keep his mouth shut when he’s pinned against a wall… Wait, what?
> 
> Next Chapter we see what was going on with Simmons during all this, and Grif, finally, makes it back to the room, and the Kissass and Lazyass are reunited.
> 
> Also, the next Chapter is named “Aurora Red”, and I am _dying_ to know if anybody can figure out why before the chapter is up. There have been quite a few clues. If someone figures it out, you get ALL the internet cookies!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me on this story! Much love to you all!
> 
> ♡–MissyAnn❀  
> (Pssst… Check out my Profile. I got some kinda silly gifs for these goofballs… ☺


	12. Aurora Red, My Little Rora Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You son of a bitch! I **knew** it, but I just didn’t wanna believe it! You’re _actually_ asleep!,” he chuckled, and shook his head at the seemingly peacefully slumbering redhead.
> 
> Come. _On_. He hadn’t been gone THAT long, had he?
> 
> Fuckin’ little shit.
> 
> Well, Simmons HAD told him to wake him up if he fell asleep, hadn’t he?
> 
> Grif stepped closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Alter Unexplained Knowledge that Host Doesn’t Share, Real world Alter/Host Problems, Quit being a dick VIC  
> Trigger Warnings: Referenced Torture of Underage Individuals, Characters have moments of insensitivity toward other sexualities, and genders, Referenced previous Self-Harm
> 
> I am so, so sorry that it’s been so long! I actually have been writing a lot, but we’re easing into some more heavy stuff that is coming up, and I’ve really been locked into writing some of that. I’ve, also, been kinda “organizing” the story.  
> So, the good news is that quite a bit of stuff is written out for the next few chapters. Like I’ve said before, there are four (over four, now) notebooks filled with completed chapters. I think, I didn’t realize how much of the bridging chapters that I had to do were in the “beginning” of the story, though. We’re getting closer to getting past that, though! Thanks for sticking with me!

_Hmmm. Knowing Donut, and his gossipy tendencies (Grif had **better** not say anything to the lightish-Red soldier to embarrass Simmons. He fucking better not!), Grif really was unlikely to get back in under ten-fifteen minutes…_

_I, mean, but whatever. It wasn’t like Simmons missed him **already** , or anything…_

_**Sigh**_ …

_Simmons carefully untucked Grif’s blanket, and sheet. Unmaking the bed as neatly as he had made it that morning._

_He would just lie down, nice and warm under the covers, and wait for him. It wasn’t like he’d actually **fall asleep**. That was freaking ridiculous… _

 

Simmons stared up at the slightly luminescent plastic stars on the ceiling.

The room was quite dim (Darker than before?), but luckily, wasn’t dark enough to set off his fear…

Which was pretty fucking fortunate, in Simmons’ opinion, as that **really** wasn’t something he wanted to be known for.

A grown adult… although, he supposed he hadn’t been one for _that_ long…

But, regardless, of that. At his age? Being _afraid_ of the dark…

Shit. It was _beyond_ pathetic.

Although,… it wasn’t like he didn’t have pretty understandable reasons behind his fear of the deep dark…

Reasons that he only, sometimes, remembered.

You just, you couldn’t- you couldn’t _see_ … you couldn’t see who was coming… you could only- only _hear_ the sound… the ***Clomp Clomp Clomp*** of his snakeskin boots against the cold wooden floorboards…

And, then, there was that pitch-black, tiny room from, sometime, later on…

Richard never let him remember long enough to really put any pieces together, so he- he couldn’t really figure out what…

He just didn’t know. Didn’t know so fucking much.

If he thought about it, _tried_ to recall a little more… after all, Richard was so deeply -elsewhere- asleep that it was sorta one of the few times Simmons even _could_ attempt to dig deeper…

It made him cr-

FUCK, he hated that word! He wasn’t-!

Dammit… But, it was true… It DID make him c…cr-crazy… to not know so much. To feel like there was knowledge of his own life, his own past locked within his head…

And, then, to have moments where things would start to come clear. Where he would start to, to remember bits and pieces of things that made no sense. That didn’t fit into any understandable configuration. Like he was missing giant, ragged pieces of the puzzle.

Sometimes, he… he could remember… He could **see** …

It had been more a cube than a room. He wasn’t sure how something- something so small could ever be called a room… but, but for lack of a better term (Because the best description that came to mind, that truly fit was… was “chamber”. And that- that… terrified him beyond all words…)

It was a small, locked deep dark place where you could hear nothing at all, or perhaps you’d call it “hearing” enforced sound cancelation… all the sound seemingly sucked out of the room, and, then, eventually, a voice, _the **Voice**_ that differentiated right from wrong, being pumped _into_ the space…

To a mind desperate for stimulation of any kind. Willing to soak up, and believe anything, anything at all…

Honestly, as Simmons lay there in Grif’s bunk, he KNEW this was a hell of a time to try to dredge any of this shit up, but, goddammit, he wanted so badly to figure it out, and not be so fucked up, anymore! He didn’t like how all these invasive, messed up thoughts had popped up when he and Grif had- had been…

Maybe, he thought if he could understand where all of this was coming from, the worst of it, -Could it- could it _really_ be that bad?-, then he could… could…

He didn’t even know.

And, he really didn’t even know why he _bothered_ to try to remember anything, anyway.

Whenever things started to come back to him… when Richard was made aware of it? He would wipe it clean, once again. And, he would tell him… Oh, my fucking God, Simmons actually remembered this, **again** … He remembered how Richard would tell him, all over again, sounding so goddamn sorry, and unhappy…

[“Fuck, Kid. Again? You aren’t supposed to remember any of that. I- Dammit! I’m sorry. I **tried** to deal on my own like with the other- Anyway… we HAD to be together for… for that. To, kinda, talk each other through it. I guess? Cause those sick fucks were totally trying to brainwash us, and _that_ \- the sensory dep shit? Man, I don’t wanna admit this crap, but before I pulled you back… I think it might actually have started to _work_ …”]

Goddammit. Yes. That was how it went, wasn’t it? Whenever Simmons did start to recall things… before Richard swept the memories away, again…

And, those words, Richard’s word’s, they- they scared the **fuck** outta him. Because, it was so obvious that the fucked up shit Simmons _almost_ started to remember was only the very tip of the iceberg. And, to be honest, most of the time, Simmons wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to know everything…

Consequently, perhaps due to his **fear** of knowing, at times, out-weighing his _desire_ to know, he didn’t normally ever even bother to attempt to hide anything from Richard. When he was starting to remember things, that is.

Even though a part of remembering was realizing that it WAS _Richard_ who had locked away those moments. Those days, and weeks, and- and, sometimes… even longer.

And, then, Simmons would have to deal with a freaked out Richard, trying to figure out _why_ Simmons was being able to “get to those memories”, at all.

So, every now and then… the redhead DID start to “unblock” or whatever… but then he’d forget (Richard, Richard MADE him forget.), **again**. Only to realize, when, once more, he recalled something, even the smallest, tiniest little thing, that he HAD started to remember stuff before.

This wasn’t the first time.

It was never the first time.

He couldn’t **remember** the first time…

It was an endless loop…

And…

He…

He was starting to-

Starting to remember, again.

Here and there.

LittleThingsBigThingsBiggerThingsBadBadBadThings…

Richard would be so, so upset. So afraid. So worried.

What- What should Simmons do? He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to tell him, to convince him to- to not...

_Ohhh_ , he wished Grif would come back, already.

......

Strange. That thought. No matter how anxious a thought it had been… thinking about Grif, that he would be coming back to him… slipping under the sheets with him… it calmed him, even while it excited him. He knew it was probably really freaking bad to rely on someone else for anything, but hell, he’d been doing it over half his life hadn’t he? Because he was-

(- **WEAK**! What kinda son a mine would do such a thing?! An’, at _nine years old? **Richard**_ _NEVER_ woulda- I never should’ve even given him our name! It’s all your fault, woman! He’s _nothin’_ like him!...)

No. Fuck, no. That did- That DID NOT make any sense. His father, and his- his insane ranting… Yelling at his mother about things that didn’t make sense… He could- He could just fuck off! It wasn’t TRUE. It didn’t make sense. And, he KNEW Richard didn’t really understand any of it, either….

No, No, NO. He was not going to think about any of that stuff. Not that night. He fricking _refused_.

Why was he even doing this to himself? This was why he couldn’t stand being alone. Couldn’t stand to not have his mind occupied with something constructive.

He had to have something to do.

Something to fill the empty spaces.

Because, in the silence… that fearful, empty silence… so much anxiety and toxicity grew and multiplied.

Until, inevitably… to be frank as fuck… he started having a nervous fucking breakdown!

And, _seriously_ , Simmons did NOT want a repeat of earlier with him getting over-excited (Although, at least, it had been in a GOOD way before.), and Richard coming out, and being all… not in the right head space.

Saying _who knows what_ to Grif.

Goddamn. Simmons’ head was all over the place. He couldn’t focus worth a shit.

But, **Jesus**. Cut him some frickin’ slack! He couldn’t even believe that had happened! In all sincerity, Simmons was still in shock, and he didn’t have a clue what to think about the whole fucked up situation.

And… let’s be serious here… Richard obviously had to have said more to Grif than just calling him Jimmy’s pet names, and saying “sorry”… Grif just hadn’t wanted to tell him everything…

“Sorry”…

Simmons didn’t know why that bothered him so much. “Sorry” for fucking _what_?!

Well, at least- at least, Richard hadn’t… kissed Grif… or something…

Both of them thinking they were kissing someone else…

The idea that he and Grif’s first kiss could have been in a sense “stolen”... Maybe, not on purpose, but…

That was such a fucking freaky as shit, stressful, upsetting thought…

Simmons was already, sort of, okay, more than ‘sort of’, he was _really_ dreading having to talk to Richard about how things had changed between him and Grif.

Considering how over-protective and paranoid Richard was, and how uncomfortable, and just strange he’d gotten about other guys…

Yeah, that was… that was gonna be a fun conversation…

* _Sigh_ *

Simmons kept kind of “checking in” on Richard. To find him still asleep. Still perfectly fine.

Peaceful in a way Simmons couldn’t remember him being in so very long.

It was kind of strange. Kind of VERY strange.

But, regardless of that, and how “far away”, yet near, Richard felt, -it was sorta a hard concept to explain-… now that Simmons was thinking more about that night, more about- about Grif (Oh, fuck. He was _blushing_ , again.)… it was making him think about how… Oh fucking God… how good, _beyond_ good, it had all been…

And, Simmons could tell Grif was trying to take it slow, and he appreciated it, but, holy shit, if just what they’d done so far had been that- that… and saying “just” seemed ridiculous considering how beyond the word it all had felt…

Son of a bitch. It had all only made him want _more_.

Considering that, it, uh, maybe shouldn’t be a surprise that after Grif’d left the room Simmons’d almost, uh… heh. Yeah, he was kind of beyond embarrassed when he thought of how he’d almost… just to let off some steam before he fucking exploded!

Oh my fricking God… he was the worst.

In Grif’s room? In his _room_? Seriously, Simmons couldn’t believe his own _audacity_. He had no class, at all. Not that the act, itself, was very “classy”.

Hmmm… He bet Grif would disagree, and- and maybe he’d just have to _show_ Simmons…

Oh, Jesus.

He couldn’t help it… It was so hard not to get all worked up thinking about… fuck-fuck… about Grif’s mouth, his-his hands, a-and tongue, and teeth on him…

(Where the fuck was he? He was taking forever!)

And then, when he remembered finding out exactly what Grif had said to him…

Actual sweet things… Huh. It was so like Grif to have to say them in a language Simmons didn’t understand…

But, still, despite Grif practically **provoking** him into it (Yes, it was ALL Grif’s fault!... Pfft. He’d probably _love_ to hear that.), the realization that he’d even had the very real thought, however fleeting, cross his mind (Again. Mother Fuck. He’d thought of it AGAIN, too!) to, um, do- do THAT…

And, in _Grif’s room_.

Seriously, maybe, if he reminded himself of it enough, it would deter any naughty wandering hands.

After all, lest he forget, it wasn’t just **Grif** he had to worry about being caught by!

Although, seriously, if he guessed right, Grif’d only be pissed he hadn’t been doing it _with **him**_ … Ah fuck, that thought _really_ got Simmons all excited, again …

But, uh, any-anyway, Simmons was SO freaking glad he hadn’t done “that”. And, he was-n’t going to! On top of everything else going on…

No matter how separate, and sound asleep Richard was at the moment, with how freaking weird he had been pretty much all night… well, really since Simmons had mentioned Jimmy a couple days back…

The truth was that another thing Simmons DID NOT want a repeat of with Richard, was what’d happened the very _first_ time Simmons’d gotten curious, and had… had touched himself like… that. ( **Why** , _whhhyyy_ did he have to get so goddamn _shy_ , & easily embarrassed by even thinking the _words_ whenever they had to do with- with  that.

He was, somehow, sure he was **worse** than any virgin girl. He’d bet any fucking thing he was the biggest _pussy_ when it came to this stuff…)

Uggghhh… _Annnyway_ , he’d been _thirteen_. And, as unbelievable as it sounded, Simmons hadn’t even really consciously _thought_ actual “naughty thoughts” until he WAS _thirteen_. Which was pretty damn old, considering how young kids were introduced to that stuff, nowadays.

I, mean, yeah, he had thought a couple different girls or boys were sorta cute in the past year or two, since he was like eleven, or so, but just in an innocent sorta way…

Simmons sighed. And, pulled Grif’s blanket tighter around him. Honestly? Just to himself? He wasn’t sure he’d ever really even liked anyone before… I, mean, sure, he guessed he’d thought a couple people were kind of attractive before, but that didn’t mean he’d thought about- about… When it came down to it, Grif was the first person, the only person he’d ever trusted enough to be with in that way. The first person he’d ever _really_ **wanted** to be with enough to…

And, he totally couldn’t tell him that. He’d either tease him, or get all cocky about it.

Probably, both.

Heh. Yeah, that sounded like him.

Simmons was smiling a little up at those plastic stars (Were they a little brighter? As if… the room had gotten a little darker?). Just, thinking of…

And, he sighed, again. A bit wistfully this time.

God, it was fucking pathetic, but… screw it. Freaking pitiful, or not, he missed him. He just…

He missed him so much in that moment...  
  


  
**♥ Grif in the Kitchen ♥**  
Yum, Yum, Yum!  
Gettin’ ALL the food  
For the Tum, Tum, Tum!

Grif hummed absently to himself as he meandered into one of his favorite places on Base.

The kitchen.

_Ahhh_ … And, with Sarge out doing a late “night” patrol, Simmons waiting for him back in his room, and Donut, and Lopez “occupied” (Man, speaking of that, Grif had better hurry the fuck up before shit started gettin’ _noisy_ )… well, at least, he didn’t have to worry about anyone bitching him out about raiding the food stores, and-

Wait, what?

He had hardly taken more than a few steps when he saw a-

What the fuck? 

No seriously. Where in the hell did that son of a bitch GET this shit? There was _another_ picnic basket on the table, with a big ass precisely-tied red bow this time, though, and a note that was _obviously_ written by Donut as it was in perfect calligraphy.

Well… Grif _guessed_ it was perfect? He wasn’t a hundred percent positive what the fuck was considered “perfect” with this dumb fancy-pants shit.

When it came to that kind of crap, only two dudes on Base played into Sarge’s idiot game of all paperwork having to be submitted in calligraphy. (Although, it WAS Donut that had really started the whole thing.) The CO had seriously thought it would deter _all_ of them from ever submitting any complaints or requests.

Grif steered clear of the whole mess. Just sounded like **work** to him.

Regardless of that, though, which really shouldn’t surprise anyone, the joke was still on Sarge. Cause the Kissass and Princess Pinkie Pie were up to the challenge.

_Buuuttt_ , Grif knew that Simmons was, like a good little Kissass, still working on perfecting his “swirls”, in his free time, or some shit, -as if it was an unassigned homework or extra credit assignment-… Well, anyway, knowing Simmons like he did, Grif knew he wouldn’t be caught dead writing any notes that could be “critiqued” unless he was absolutely _forced_ to due to protocol (He was still _practicing_! That’s not fair! Whine, whine, whine…).

Oh, yeah, the note was from Donut alright.

Grif edged up to it. Gingerly, picking up the… was it on _card stock_? Huh. (I, mean, not that he knew what that _was_ , or anything!)

He was expecting… fuck, he didn’t know **what** …

But, it just said:

 

Hiya, Pal! I know if your little date is going well, you’ll have worked up a _biiiggg_ appetite! And, if not, _weeelll_ … misery eating is a very common practice in all Western cultures! (I _actually_ made that up. Sounds true though, huh? ☺) _Annnywaaays_ , good luck or, uh, better luck next time!  
Kissies to you, Grif! Secret Kissies for Sims! (I mean, ya know, if he’s still _there_.)

Love Forever and Always,  
Your SPTUTO ♡

  
P.S. There’s more sandwiches over in the cooler. Didn’t wanna over-feed you, earlier, and have you pass out on poor Simmy Sims!

 

“Such an asshole,” Grif snorted, perhaps a tad affectionately, as he snagged the basket.

(Son of a bitch _wrote_ the way he **talked** , too! Pfft.)

Donut hadn’t even mentioned that he had left more food in the kitchen for them. And, how did he just _know_ Grif would end up in the kitchen, again, that night, anyway?

Alright, so maybe Grif wasn’t that hard to figure out in some ways. But, was he really THAT predictable?

Or, did Donut just naturally assume he was that much of a hungry-ass pig?

Bastard.

Not that Grif was _complaining_. Although, seriously, the note was a little fuckin’ much, _Donut_.

And, he had to admit that he wasn’t too happy about having to look like fricking Little Red Riding Hood traipsing around with a big ol’ basket a goodies… on the other hand, though… fuck, the already ready FOOD part that Simmons wouldn’t even _dream_ of bitching about (More peanut butter? Yeah. He wouldn’t be bitching.) more than made up for it.

It made Grif feel all secretly warm inside. To have something to bribe the nerd with.

Sure, Grif’d known about the Reese’s thing, but he hadn’t realized it went beyond that. Like this mother fucker **loved** peanut butter, in general. And, he hadn’t had it in like forever, apparently.

It almost seemed like him with his Oreos, if he hadn’t had- Oh, fuck! Goddamn sacrilege! He couldn’t even THINK of it!

If he wasn’t such an asshole, Grif would probably be lovingly feeding it to him, or some other kinda lame-ass overly-romantic shit… Rather than trying to come up with ways to use this to his own advantage.

Eh. Oh, well. He guessed they’d see how it went.

Hm-Hm-Hm… What else would Simmons even eat? The peanut and jelly sandwiches, _obviously_. Even Grif really had to admit that they HAD been pretty damn good. Different sandwiches had different jellies. Who knew where the hell Donut had even gotten blackberry, and blueberry jelly? (Oh wait. Had to be Blue Base. But, the strawberry and raspberry jelly had to have been from Red Base, right?)

Did the sandwiches have honey in them, too? He’d ate them too fast to tell last time. And, Simmons had been too busy having a food orgasm over his first taste of real peanut butter in however long…

Shit, that’d been hot…

_Mmmm_ …

Uh… really, nonetheless, he didn’t know how the hell Donut did it. Especially, with the limited ingredients Grif ever saw around… Where those fuckheads HIDING shit from him?!... _Hmmm_. The lightish-Red soldier did bake it at Blue Base, though… Maybe, he swiped some stuff from them?

Somehow, or another, the son of a bitch made some damn good bread.

But, hey, let’s be real here. Anything that wasn’t an MRE was automatically okay in Grif’s book.

…Weeelll, maybe that wasn’t _exactly_ fuckin’ true…

Like, AT ALL.

I, mean, ya know… Simmons, and his rabbit food… That wasn’t too bad, **sometimes** (Look. He just freaking loved food, in general.), but Grif had to be careful what he admitted, in case, Simmons let any nutty vegan ideas go to his nutty head…

Ah, fuck. He just HAD to think of that didn’t he? He knew _exactly_ what would make the Kissass happy.

Pfftt. The shit he did for that pretty little bastard.

Dammit…  


♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  


Simmons was feeling kind of… He couldn’t explain it. He was like, for no reason at all (Even HE wasn’t **this** needy), he was feeling more, and more on edge.

He gulped a little nervously. Fuck, it seemed darker in here… But it couldn’t be. That didn’t make sense.

Honestly, if Simmons didn’t know any better he’d almost think someone was messing with him…

But, that was impossible. Who could have control of the room’s lights outside the room?

Who would even KNOW that that was a way to fuck with him, anyway?

Heh… Yeah. He was just… just being paranoid.

Simmons blew out a calming breath.

And… he happened to glance over at Grif’s bunkside table.

His red hair tie lay there. He’d gotten ones that were as close to his hair color as possible so they would blend in, and not look gaudy.

Hm. Just looking at it made him smile a little to himself, thinking of how Grif had taken it from him to keep him from leaving. He hadn’t _really_ wanted to leave at all…

He looked a bit to the right, and saw one of Grif’s bright, garish orange hair ties beside his. It was more like a little _scrunchie_ , for fuck’s sake…

Simmons had to chuckle. That was so Grif. He gave absolutely _no fucks_ if it was flashy, or whatever.

Secretly, Simmons kind of envied him that… when it wasn’t driving him up the wall, anyway.

He reached over to pick up his own red tie.

Just so he had something to do with his hands. Something to fiddle with.

And, he settled back down. Nestling in. Trying not to ruminate on any upsetting, OR uncomfortable things…

And, honestly, Simmons didn’t know why he’d even let himself get so worried about… stuff… To even think that there would ever be a repeat of the humiliating experience of being “caught”.

(Holy fuck, he was THINKING about it, **again**. Not, of “doing it”, but still… What was _wrong_ with him?!)

It’d been years ago, and, apparently there were parts of the brain that “lit up”, in a sense, when you were um, ya know, “turned on”, or whatever, and Richard, kind of understood that now, where he hadn’t really before, and could recognize it, and make himself scarce…

Huh. Yeah, it, um, must be weird living so much in someone’s head… Was it- was it like being inside a computer, or something?

Uh, cause Simmons wasn’t really sure exactly how it worked-

OH, FUCK IT! It had been SO mother fucking **embarrassing**! He couldn’t help himself. Once he started thinking about it, it was like he HAD to relive it, in order to attempt to _excise_ it all over again! There were no words to ever describe such a goddamn travesty of a humiliating experience!

It really was the kind of thing you could never just forget.

Even, Simmons with all his “memory problems”, didn’t get a free pass on this one...  
  


  
**☆ Simmons’ Household: Night ☆**  
Richard aka Richie “Simmons” the III Status: Awake: Curious  
“Richard” Simmons Status: Elsewhere: Asleep

Richard was sleeping, of course, or Simmons wouldn’t have had the guts to do it. Not to mention, if Richard had been awake, actually _with_ with him… then, oh, geez, then, it would’ve been like touching _him_ , too… um, uh … kinda like i-in-c-cest, or something…

Simmons knew that if someone heard he sorta thought that, they probably wouldn’t understand… But, Richard had been like family, the ONLY _good_ family Simmons had ever had…

Anyway, he was just curious. Most boys, and girls got, at least, slightly curious about this stuff younger than him. But, well, he’d had a hard time of it.

The only bright lights in his life were Richard, and (when his father had something going on at the house that he wasn’t supposed to know about) his sleepovers with Jimmy over the weekends.

Even, after Richard and Jimmy got together, and there were times that he had to ‘go to sleep’ a little early so they could spend some time just with each other, he didn’t mind. He felt _safe_ there, at Jimmy’s house, and the three of them spent lots of time together during the day.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky to have a friend that would accept Richard. Maybe, he hadn’t realized they’d get all embarrassing n’ lovey dovey with each other, or whatever… but…

He wasn’t sure if that was where the idea had come from…

Simmons’d accidently popped back when a cabinet downstairs had slammed. Signaling that someone, apparently unbeknownst to the other two boys, was back home.

Richard had cursed, and Jimmy had yipped like a frightened puppy, before they remembered the bedroom door was locked.

Because, _yes_. Jimmy had a LOCK function on his bedroom door. While, Simmons felt lucky that he (and Richard) were even allowed to have a _door_.

But, Simmons couldn’t really think about that, right then, as when he’d been startled back awake, or whatever, Jimmy was _sitting on Richard’s ( **their** , now) lap_, and maybe, probably **definitely** , they’d been kissing, or something. But, thank God they’d stopped before Simmons had, -completely accidently, he promised!- dropped in on them, and… well, Richard was kinda… in a state. He was _feeling_ , um, things…

Okay, Simmons wasn’t exactly an **_idiot_**. He knew the word “aroused”! He’d heard someone say it at school like a dirty word one time.- (Oh geeez, and Jimmy was, too… )

Oh, so flipping embarrassing…

But, now, _Simmons_ felt it, too… Cause he was in the same body, and he didn’t know how to block stuff like Richard seemed to!

He felt the physical feeling of it, anyway. Whatever Richard’s _feeling_ feelings were toward Jimmy were just too foreign to Simmons, who’d known the kid since he was FIVE, and Jimmy’d been six… that was all too odd for him to comprehend. Weird, even.

But, the _physical_ feeling was- not to be all scientific, and like a giant nerd, but on one hand it was _fascinating_ , but on the other, it was…

Jimmy had pressed up against Richard- no, them, _them_. And, Simmons knew he HAD to say something. **This** had never happened before- But, whoa, _wow_ , that was-

And, then Richard, obviously realized he was there, and he mumbled, “Dammit, Simmons-”, and Simmons was out to beddy-bye, again…

They hadn’t talked about it. As if they were all going to pretend it hadn’t happened.

But, there Simmons was, and it was the first time he’d been alone, like _really_ alone, where he’d felt safe enough. And, he’d _remembered it_ …

Richard must’ve been too distracted to blank it out.

Oh, yes, Simmons knew that Richard did that, sometimes. He hadn’t had problems with his memory until he woke up in the hospital at nine years old with… with a feeling of not being alone…

Although, Richard hadn’t _talked_ to  him, right then, but Jimmy said he’d come out, sometimes, though back then, neither he, nor Simmons, had known that was what was going on…

But, later on, they did figure out that that helped explain some of the missing time that Simmons had started to complain about.

Ah geez, but thinking of Jimmy, even in that innocent (Well, in comparison.) way, had reminded Simmons of the whole thing from earlier. Okay, he COULD NOT think of _Jimmy_ , himself, like that, though. That was just too weird, but…

Oh, he was _sooo_ curious, and it had been an unbelievably awkward situation to, basically, walk in on, but… but it had felt really _good_.

But… also, frustrating? Like, Richard hadn’t _quite_ been doing precisely what he wanted to do… Like he’d been kinda… holding back, or something? Strange…

It was, _also_ , strange how, somehow, Simmons _knew_ what to do, although, it would shock someone how little he actually knew. Not that touching yourself is, uh, ya know, _that_ hard to figure out, but… he’d kind of lived in a bubble for a long, long time, and even when it was obvious Jimmy had started to know things he didn’t, the dark-haired boy was, in a way, strangely protective of Simmons’ innocence.

Which made little to no sense, considering his relationship with Richard, who shared Simmons’ body… but then, their whole situation was just beyond odd.

Simmons must’ve gotten too… worked up or something… while trying to figure it all out. He was nothing if not a perfectionist!

Whatever the deal, his reactions were unfamiliar, his heart rate was through the roof… he, uhm, **may** have even made a noise or two...

And, while in the future, this would always please a certain someone, at that time, back when he was still practically a “kid”, in Richard’s eyes, anyway, it only served to cause him some serious humiliation.

He must have awakened, startled, _and_ just plain frightened the holy hell outta Richard, because all of the sudden Richard had been _THERE_ , and extremely panicked.

[“Simmons! Kid! Jesus, oh my god, what’s wrong?! Are you okay, Are you hurt, Who’s hurting you?!- _I’ll fucking **KILL** them!!!_ What- Oh… OH. _Uhhh_ -”

“ _Richaaarrrddd_ !,” Simmons had, somehow, in the most _ultimate_ humiliation, squawked AND squeaked, while covering him-, well, suddenly, _them_ selves with his (THEIR!) hands. And, oh, he was gonna _die_ , this was how he died, tell his parents he hated them- It was _all_ over- he was sure of it! This was the worst, the _wooorrrst_!, “Please, just _goooo_.”]

But, Richard had, suddenly, awkwardly, seemed to have come to the conclusion that it was his DUTY to give Simmons: “The Talk”.

You know the one. About the birds and the bees, and the flowers, and the trees...

It may seem like it was a VERY inopportune time, but, to be completely honest, it wasn’t like Simmons was “up” for continuing what had started all this in the first place… which was pretty evident to both of them.

**Any** of Simmons’ thoughts about doing _that_ had fled, and deflated as quickly as the rest of him had at the sound of Richard, up and outta nowhere, anxiously yelling at him…

Oh man. Well, it wasn’t like Simmons hadn’t accidently been a moment-killer, although, he really hadn’t understood it at the time, for Richard and Jimmy on more than one occasion, so, maybe, this was… like karma? Although, he wasn’t really _allowed_ to believe in that, though. (But, secretly, he believed, and thought about, A LOT of things he wasn’t allowed to…)

Simmons didn’t have a clue. He just, blushing like mad, put himself to rights, as Richard tried to separate himself while he did.

And, head bowed, hands folded, politely, in his lap like he was in class, and not allowed to take notes, Simmons quietly listened to Richard, who wanted _desperately_ to pace, as they both were prone to do when nervous or uncomfortable, or even just too edgy. But, he restrained himself for Simmons’ sake (Which he appreciated SO much as he felt like the whole situation had turned his legs to jelly.).

And, Richard explained, a little haltingly, how everything worked. Because, according to him…

[“Fuck it. _I give up_. If those sons a bitches STILL haven’t told you all this, until **now** , _at your age_ , they’re NEVER going to. And, they sure as hell won’t tell you the things **I** will…  Judgmental, bigoted _bastards_ -…”]

Simmons, simply, listened. Though, there was, honestly, really nothing “simple” about listening, and learning this stuff. Not for someone like Simmons, anyway. And, **especially** , not when having to learn it from someone, _literally_ , so close to him. And, someone who, also, for all intents and purposes, regardless of it not making a lot of sense, had been, and was like, an older brother to him…

But, despite all of that, he _wanted_ to know. He always wanted to know _everything_.

He was beyond tired of everyone growing up around him, while he was always the “Kid”.

Still, despite his curiosity, he only asked questions within their mind, as he was WAY too embarrassed to speak the words aloud.

And, even the things that he was **so** curious about, but tried to bury down, due to them seeming _excessively_ embarrassing, Richard rooted them out, and answered those, too.

Apparently, this wasn’t a time for personal space or thoughts.

Richard told Simmons he wanted to make sure that he, at least, understood how it all worked, so he couldn’t be lied to, or taken advantage of. And, so nothing would surprise him, or freak him out.

Well, any more than would be expected.

At one point, Simmons had the nervous thought about _how_ Richard knew all this stuff… Had he… with Jimmy… in their body?!

And, although, that was definitely one thought that Simmons tried to bury down, and hide from Richard (He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to know the answer. He hadn’t really thought that far into it.)…

[Richard heard him, anyway, and he scoffed… before becoming thoughtful, “Come on, Kid. This body’s still too young for all that… well, I guess not _technically_ , but… And, anyway, Jimmy’s still too damn young, too. No matter _what_ he thinks… Don’t worry, okay? There’s time…  Huh. Kinda thought you were… Dammit, Simmons! I didn’t mean to think about that!- No! I’m not mad at **you**. Don’t you get upset, dammit! I’m mad at _myself_ , cause I’m an idiot!... Alright, it’s just… to be honest, me and Jimmy kinda thought… maybe you were Ace?… Well, he didn’t know what that was, exactly, but- Oh, it’s short for Asexual. It means, uh…”

And, Richard had tried to explain it in terms Simmons would understand, as he was still so, apparently, innocent and naïve even at thirteen.

“…Anyway, but, maybe, you’re just a late bloomer, or something? Not really surprising considering… everything… We really shouldn’t have tried to, ya know… like, ‘label’ you, or something. Uh… sorry, Kid. That was… kinda messed up. This is all new to you, now, but you’ll figure it out. And, you **don’t** gotta have it all figured out overnight, either… And, listen, seriously, I don’t want you to worry. We gotta share this body, so we’ll… I don’t know… we’ll work it out, alright? You know, I- I love ya, Kid. I won’t let anything bad happen.”]  


☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

  


Looking back on it… it was all so damn weird. And, not for the reasons people would probably expect.

Simmons felt confused, again. Because, _yes, God, yes_ , it had been **beyond** humiliating to be caught like that. It was probably up there with people’s top most embarrassing experiences. To be caught in the midst of…  Masturb- you know! And, by someone very close to you. Basically, just someone you wouldn’t ever want to be caught by. And, Simmons got to share a body with that person. Fucking _greaaate_.

But…

But.

There was another aspect to the situation, to the memory, that was very- very upsetting.

It was a reminder of how _much_ Richard had changed. Because, even if the circumstances had been unbelievably awkward, especially at first, it was a great example of how different Richard had been back then. So open, and when Simmons really wanted to know something, so willing to explain anything, and everything he knew to him. S-Sex stuff, relationship stuff, hidden hand stuff (What actually went on behind closed doors in the Church, for example.)…

Just whatever he knew that he thought Simmons was “ready to hear”…

But, then, at some point, there had been a- a break. Simmons didn’t know how else to explain it. A distinct change.

And, suddenly, instead of some here and there blank spots (Probably, from when Simmons’ father had been around, or when Richard and Jimmy wanted alone “boyfriend” time, or whatever. Sometimes, it seemed, just cuddling, and watching a movie.), Simmons had SO many of them, and just times in his life where when he looked back… there was just… nothing.

He _did_ remember one time when they’d run away. They’d always said they’d run away together, the- the three of them, but… Simmons wasn’t sure where Jimmy was, anymore. Richard tried to tell him he’d moved away, but that didn’t make sense… they lived on the same _street_ , and Simmons still saw his family around the neighborhood… and, sometimes, Richard would _cry_. It was **weird**. And, it- it _hurt_ to see him, to FEEL him so… so broken…

It didn’t make sense! Richard was tough, and sarcastic, and-and he didn’t cry!

Suddenly, though, sometimes… he would, and he’d be so upset, so torn apart, that he wouldn’t even _realize_ Simmons was there, and he’d choke out, “It’s my fault, it’s my fucking fault.”

But, Simmons… Simmons _knew_ that wasn’t true. Whatever had happened… it was HIS fault. **He’d** been the one. The one that couldn’t bear the burden of the secret, anymore. That had begged Richard to let him tell Jimmy about them. Tell him that the Simmons he’d known wasn’t always just a _him_ , anymore. But, a **them**.

In hindsight, it seemed like it had been a terrible mistake… like it had caused a snowball effect culminating in Simmons waking up one day, with he and Richard on a city transit… but, Jimmy… Jimmy wasn’t with them…

And, Richard was… he was… never the same.

But… Simmons didn’t… he didn’t want to remember any of that…

He didn’t even want to try.

Simmons rolled onto his side, pulling the covers up until they covered his eyes.

Sometimes, when people left, or… disappeared… they didn’t come back…

Or, like Richard… they didn’t come back the same.

Simmons wished Grif would come back.

He hated to be alone.

And…

Goddammit… he really did miss him.

Not that he would TELL him that.

No fucking way.  


✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

  


When Grif punched in the code to re-enter his room, he had to admit that he was glad to have the “picnic basket” to carry all the crap in, and to set the beers on top of, for a second.

Despite how _much_ Simmons was gonna fuck with him about it, he figured it was totally worth it to not have to exert any extra effort juggling stuff, or, even _worse_ , to have to make **another** trip.

Shit! He should’ve at least taken off the bow. Dammit it all. He hadn’t even thought of it.

Nevertheless, in complete spite of the Little Red Riding Hood basket, he couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

Everything was cool. After all, he could think of a couple ways he could shut the Kissass up, now, if he got too fuckin’ mouthy.

Grif was all set with a clever comeback, and a cocky grin, when his door slid open, and he took a step in…

But, the words died in his throat, and he couldn’t have told you later, for the life of him, what the fuck he’d been planning to say.

He, definitely, wasn’t grinning or smirking, anymore, either.

But, frowning. In suspicion and confusion.

The room was much, _much_ darker than it had been when he’d left it.

In fact, it hadn’t really been “dark”, at all, when he’d left. The lights had been slightly dim, but…

Now, someone would probably say he was being an idiot. Worrying about nothing. Obviously, _Simmons_ had to have turned down the lights to create like some kinda “romantic ambience”, or whatever.

Yeah, right. Whoever thought that, didn’t _really_ know Simmons. Not like Grif did. Because, even though Simmons thought nobody knew, Grif, at least, had noticed that he always had the lights on nice n’ bright if he could help it, and he’d, also, witnessed a few freak outs that the others had attributed to other things, but that had abated the moment the lights were back on.

Of course, then, there was the time Grif’d heard Simmons talk Sarge out of installing complete mock day/night sensors through-out the Base that would make it all dark at a particular time inside the Base, making it easier to sleep at “night”. But, Simmons had said that if they were truly “locked in the deep dark, than we won’t be able to see who’s coming up on us-”

That was what Simmons had called it. Being “locked in the deep dark”. Instead of just saying “dark” like anyone else, normally, would.

Grif had to admit, it was… creepy.

So, when Simmons had been talking like that, Grif had, for once, actually been _glad_ to hear Sarge butt in. Their CO had boomed out some gobbledygook about Blues, and their conniving and scheming ways, and Grif could almost _swear_ the old kook had said some made up word, “scheniving”.

But, Grif had seen the way Simmons’ shoulders had relaxed when he realized the lights would stay on. He’d seen how the redhead’s hands had uncurled from the fists he didn’t even seem to realize he’d had them in.

Yep. Simmons was fuckin’ freaked out of the dark. Or, maybe, it wasn’t the “dark”, exactly. He was alright, perfectly fine, overall, if he had his helmet, and had his night vision on.

So… it was more that he was afraid of not being able to see.

And, as Grif stepped into the room, he knew Simmons, armorless, wouldn’t have turned down the lights this low for anything. Hell, he could hardly even see Simmons lying on the bed. The covers kicked to the floor. Nothing but a dark mound.

“Simmons?,” he asked, trying to sound chill, joking, even (Which wasn’t easy when weird shit like this reminded him of the similar things that had been happening the week before the… the massacre at his last Base… But… fuck. He was- He was just being paranoid…), “You better not be asleep, dude. We talked about this.”

No answer.

Grif turned back toward the panel on the wall, and turned the lights back up.

And, Simmons’ face relaxed. The tension in his body eased. As though, even subconsciously, he felt safer.

Grif didn’t see that, though.

But… someone saw. Someone did.

Well, not sure if you’d call them a “someone”, precisely...

Grif turned back, still, unknowingly, frowning slightly… but at the sight that met his eyes in the brightened, not overtly glaringly bright, but, now, comfortably lit room, he just had to laugh.

“You son of a bitch! I **knew** it, but I just didn’t wanna believe it! You’re _actually_ asleep!,” he chuckled, and shook his head at the seemingly peacefully slumbering redhead.

Come. _On_. He hadn’t been gone THAT long, had he?

Fuckin’ little shit.

Well, Simmons HAD told him to wake him up if he fell asleep, hadn’t he?

Grif stepped closer.

Simmons was curled up on his side. Lying with his head resting on his folded together hands. Lashes thick and long against his cheeks.

Holy fuck. Not that Grif would say it out loud or anything? But, Simmons looked _adorable_. Kinda innocent, in a way, and peaceful, even…

God. He really had kicked the blanket and the sheet all the way off the bed, though, huh? Strange. _That_ didn’t seem very peaceful.

Grif set the basket, and the beers he’d snagged from Donut onto the bunkside table, shoving over his hair tie as he…

Wait. Where the hell was Simmons’ hair thingy? Did that son of a bitch put his hair back, and, _then_ , go to sleep?

Hell, NO. That shit wasn’t gonna fly. Like, how uncomfortable can you attempt to make yourself, dude? It was freakin’ retard-

Oh. Never mind. Grif had leaned slightly toward the Kissass to scowl at him like an old grump noticing those darn kids on his lawn, again. -Would those whippersnappers ever learn?- Only to realize that he was not witnessing a repeat of what drove him silently, but perpetually, nuts.

Simmons' hair was just brushed out of his face, and behind his ear. Not tied back all low, and prim n’ proper.

But - **there** it was-, he DID have his stupid hair thingy. Peeping out in-between his folded together _hands_ , like he’d been thinking about pulling his hair back before he’d fallen asleep.

Alright. That was it. Grif decided he was gonna have to make a new rule. Label it some sorta Protocol, so Simmons _had_ to obey it. His Nerd self would give him no other option.

This son of a bitch HAD to actually be _ordered_ to chill the fuck out, and relax. Geesh.

Given this serious, annoying-as-fuck issue, a new Rule would just have to be enacted.

Rule #3: No Hair Ties in the Chill Zone would follow closely behind the penultimate Rule #2: No Armor in the Chill Zone, and the most important #1 Rule: Eat, Drink, and Eat Some More.

Snickering a little to himself, Grif sat on the edge of the bed, right beside Simmons. The bunk shifted some from the added weight, and Simmons shifted, in turn, into the slight dip created.

He, unknowingly, curved around Grif, who slowly, and carefully, slipped the hair tie out of the redhead's hands, set it back down _where it belonged_... then, just sat there, watching him sleep… like a fucking _creep_ , he realized.

Whoops.

Oh, well.

And, fuck it. He needed another beer before anything else tonight, anyhow. Maybe, he was trying to cool off a bit before waking the Kissass up, or something. He didn’t know. He knew he was thinking about waking him up by biting lightly into that sweet spot on Simmons’ neck over and over again.

Sooo, that was a thing…

Which, probably, wasn’t the greatest plan considering this whole “take it slow” lame-ass idea some dumbass had come up with… But, but just the first night, right? That was cool, right? Uhhh, this was **so** not how he’d ever done anything like this. Maybe, he’d never… cared enough to… put any real thought into it?

_Annnywaaays_ , it would actually, likely, be a bad idea… Waking him up like that… As, although, Simmons could wake up squirming and moaning his name… he could, also, wake up in a… OtherSimmons state of mind… and sock him in the face.

Grif wasn’t a complete idiot.

And, there was, also, the fact that…

Goddamn. The redhead looked so _relaxed_. For freaking once. Grif **should** , maybe, let him sleep…

But, let’s be real here. He was too damn selfish a person for that…

He could let him sleep a _little_ bit longer, though.

Grif reached out, and snagged one of the beers, whispering, and, for some reason, teasing a sleeping Simmons (Christ. He just liked having the Kissass _there_ with him.), “Snooze ya lose, nerd.”

Simmons stirred.

And, Grif, automatically, put the bottle back down to see if he was waking up.

* _Click_ * * _Click_ *

The glass bottle clicked, and rang merrily, and _noisily_ against the one beside it.

“Shhh… Shush. Shut the fuck up,” Grif scolded the bottle (himself?), though he wasn’t sure why, as he **wanted** Simmons to wake up.

He stifled a laugh.

Didn’t he just tell himself he wasn’t an idiot?

Whatever.

He gazed at the pretty redhead in his bed, telling himself to just wake him the fuck up, already, and quit being such a goddamn weirdo (But, honestly, how often did he ever get to see Simmons completely relaxed? It was… dammit. It was just nice, alright?)… And, he had a strange, stray thought…

He’s like Aurora with red hair.

Grif snorted, and chuckled to himself, mumbling, “Like Little _Rora Red_.”

Before he could figure out whether or not he had accidently crossed, and totally mixed up Sleeping Beauty with Little Red Riding Hood, he was bemoaning the fact that he even knew all the old timey fairy tales (Even, backward versions of them.), at all. Yeah, he’d kinda _had_ to for Kai, but still… it felt too… nerdy.

Like a certain red-haired Sleeping Beau-

Simmons sighed quietly, and murmured something in his sleep.

What was that? What did he say?

It had kinda sounded like… like “Grif”, but… it had been too low to know for sure…

Grif couldn’t help but lean closer. His hand reaching out of its own accord…

And, he brushed back a few wisps of hair that were in Simmons’ face.

Simmons hated hair in his fa-

It happened instantly. The moment his fingers lightly touched the redhead’s skin, he was turning into Grif’s touch. Rolling onto his back.

And, his big, bright green eyes opened.

Not peeped open. Or, snapped open all dramatically. But, just opened.

There was a fleeting moment of confusion. Of that ‘Where am I, what’s going on?’ bleary blurriness in his eyes…

But, then, Simmons’ gaze zeroed in on him, and he, almost, whined, “ _Grif_ ”, before muttering, still sleepily, but urgently, as though he, currently, had no control over his tongue, “I missed you. I missed you so much…”

Then, he was reaching up, twining his arms around Grif’s neck, and pulling him down on top of him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Donut, and the calligraphy thing happened in Season 4, but in this AU, that deal was already in place.  
> Also, I added the Archive Warning, now, as, like I mentioned, we are very close to starting to get into some difficult material. Like, literally, only a couple chapters away. I’m not sure about putting up the Underage archive warning, as much of the blocked memories, or flashback’s, connected to the archive warning take place while characters are underage, but they aren’t “underage”, in the current timeline. I wonder if it would confuse new readers, and make them think they are currently under 18, or something? Anyway, any suggestions on the “Underage” warning? They would be very welcome.
> 
> On a serious note, I, literally, no joke, had to deal with the most discriminatory f’d up, messed up crap right at my doorstep yesterday. So, now, I have to deal with it over the next couple days, and it sucks. But, whatever. That’s life, and a lot of us go through it. (Don’t EVER think that makes it okay, though.) You think you get away from your horrible family, and it’ll be better! Yeesh! :p Anyway, seriously, please just wish me luck with this messed up situation. And, I will be working on the chapters in the meantime. Just wanted to let you all know what’s up if I don’t end up posting until next week. It won’t be as long a break as this time, though, I promise! I’ll post an already complete background chapter before I let that happen.  
> I, from the bottom of my heart, hope you are all well! Much Love!  
>   
> ♡–MissyAnn❀  
>   
> 


	13. Even In Dreams… You Are With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can your eyes pop out of your head in a dream? Probably so. As dreams can be pretty wild… Simmons just wondered, cause... very suddenly, of all things in the _world_ , he heard a voice he would know anywhere, at any time…
> 
> “Sup?”
> 
> Huh. Yep. He’d know that voice anywhere, alright. Even, apparently, in a frightening, much to real, dream.
> 
> And, he was pretty sure his eyes, at least, opened comically wide enough to warrant the whole “eyes pop out of your head” descriptor… But, regardless, Simmons was secretly so relieved to see him, in dream-form, or no, that he could’ve burst into grateful tears.
> 
> Of course, with how on edge, on the razor’s edge between terror and insanity, he was, his bitchy side got the best of him.
> 
> “GRIF! What the fuck are you doing here- I didn’t even KNOW you, yet, dumbass!,” Simmons turned toward the wonderful son of a bitch that was suddenly _lounging_ in the seat beside him, right where the creepy dude had been sitting.
> 
> Oh, my fuck, he was wearing what he’d been wearing that night. That adorable as all hell red panda T-shirt, and-
> 
> “Grif, you idiot, you’re in your boxers,” Simmons hissed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags and Warnings for this Chapter: Referenced: Protector/Aggressive Alter Violence & Rampage/s, Blood, Aftermath/Effects of Torture of Underage Individuals, Underage Alcohol and Un-prescribed Drug Use, Previous Overdose/s, Remembering through Dreams
> 
> This chapter is to fill in what Simmons was actively trying to not remember, but came through, regardless, in its way, when he nodded off. The thing about blocked/repressed memories is that, sometimes, once they are triggered, they can be impossible to escape. Even if it turns out that you really weren’t ready to start remembering, after all.
> 
> Next chapter will continue right where this chapter, and the last, left off.
> 
> This chapter ended up being my longest, yet, and it was a bitch to deal with format-wise. Please, forgive any of that. I, basically, could’ve kept screwing with it over the next week or more, or post it, now, so I can get back to polishing and getting up the next two chapters with our sweeties _together_ together, again. (I keep sneaking over, and writing more on them, anyway!) I figured, although, we need this background info., and the realization Simmons has at the end of the chapter, as we move forward, we all preferred the latter. ☺

_Whatever had happened… it was HIS fault. **He’d** been the one. The one that couldn’t bear the burden of the secret, anymore. That had begged Richard to let him tell Jimmy about them. Tell him that the Simmons he’d known wasn’t always just a  him, anymore. But, a **them**. _

_In hindsight, it seemed like it had been a terrible mistake… like it had caused a snowball effect culminating in Simmons waking up one day, with he and Richard on a city transit… but, Jimmy… Jimmy wasn’t with them…_

_And, Richard was… he was… never the same._

_But… Simmons didn’t… he didn’t want to remember any of that…_

 

Sometimes, you just KNOW you’re dreaming.

And, -for some-, there’s that moment when you realize that you _aren’t_ just dreaming, but, somehow, **remembering**.

Then, you know… that _this_? This really happened. This had actually really happened…

 

 

Simmons woke up on an unfamiliar city transit.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

He wasn’t immediately afraid, though.

Just… very, very confused.

Hadn’t he been in Grif’s bunk? Waiting for him to come back from Donut’s room…

He had a flash of seeing around, of seeing above… of seeing _himself_.

Like what happens in dreams, sometimes, he thought, absently. Where you’re you, but, then, you see yourself. Like switching between perspectives, or something… As if… you’re watching a movie of someone else’s life…

He saw himself, and-

Whoa. What was he wearing? He hadn’t dressed like that in a while. Grif would so tease him if he saw him all “dressy casual”, or whatever.

His head was bowed, his hair pulled up in a ponytail, rather than tied back low… It seemed longer, too…

And, when he glanced up…

It _was_ longer. And, he… was a couple years younger…

Oh. He had to be dreaming. Like _actually_ dreaming.

How else would he have these moments of seeing himself without a mirror?

That was… that was weird.

So, he dreamed that he had woken up?

But, on the transit.

Not… not on Grif’s bed…

So creepy. He didn’t even remember falling asleep in the first place...

His thoughts were as slow as honey dripping off a spoon…

Although… he guessed that wasn’t really the saying. It was supposed to be “as slow as molasses”. But, eh. Simmons liked honey...

What odd, Grif-like thoughts… All food related n’ stuff… Or, maybe not, “Grif-like” thoughts, exactly...

Needed more Oreos, and nudity...

Even in his dream (Or sleeping memory recovery-state?... What?), he blushed an embarrassingly hot shade of red.

He had to still be in Grif’s room, then, right? Sleeping in his bunk? Like he’d fallen asleep waiting for him…

Huh.

Simmons found himself sorta settling into the dream. He couldn’t seem to make himself wake up, and to be truthful… he was kinda curious.

This felt SO familiar. So, so…

This had happened.

He was seventeen in this dream/memory. And, they had run away.

This had happened.

In that odd way that dreams had, Simmons went from sorta knowing that, to, in an instant, KNOWING it as an absolute.

At that very moment, in this dream/memory (He had no clue what to call it.), he felt… more than anything he felt… _tempted_. To try to dig deeper. Or, even to just actually _observe_ , instead of attempt to flee. To see what he **could** remember. To figure out what was trying to come out while Richard was so deep under. Maybe too deep under to stop him…

Simmons _knew_ there were things Richard didn’t want him to know. And, he knew they had to be bad. Probably… very, very bad… And, maybe, just maybe… he’d been kind of a pussy about it. Willing to let Richard shield him. Willing to let him BE his shield.

Because he KNEW he had blank spaces. Empty days, and weeks, and more. But, how often, if ever, had he really been willing to fight him on it? To share the burden… Why had his best friend, Richard’s _boyfriend_ , disappeared? “Moved”, his ass. A kid, doesn’t “move” without their family…

 

 

As he pondered this, something else became clear.

Richard was with him. Not elsewhere. Not asleep.

But, there.

He was silent, though. Distant, although, near. Just very, very quiet. Even his thoughts were completely blocked off from Simmons.

_When did he learn to do that? To be there, but that blocked off? When did he-_

Wait… What?... Simmons hadn’t thought that in that moment. In the dream, or whatever it was. He had heard the _younger_ dream/memory version of himself think it. Like he had realized Richard was there at the same time that Simmons had…

_Alright_. This was fucking ridiculous. Simmons… Dream Simmons?... Who was who here? Hell, he was getting a headache. A _dream_ headache.

Nice. Real nice.

**Okay**. (He was using his calming reinforcement words on himself without even realizing it.)

He would simply observe. Simple enough, right?

This must be important if his brain was forcing him to remember it… Or… maybe, his brain was just a dick?

That was always a distinct possibility…

(Hanging out with Grif for so long, especially.)

Something to take note of…

Dammit! Speaking of that, he wished he _could_ take notes…

Younger Simmons looked around them, and Simmons clued in that it was time to pay attention.

He could kinda just listen in. Neither Richard, or younger him seemed to notice him, anyway…

But, then…

They wouldn’t, would they? If this was some kind of memory, Simmons from the future wouldn’t have been there, at all. So, why would they notice him…

He focused.

He bitched to himself that he wasn’t sure this was how dreams worked, exactly, and, had an internal argument about whether or not recalling in the form of a half-asleep “hallucination” state made more sense.

He realized he was going to start missing things due to being a giant nerd, -No, fuck you very much, _Grif_ -, for being an individual invested in the higher pursuit of understanding the intricacies inherent…

It was like being a weirdo peeper on his own goddamn life! Or past!

_Whatever_.

Simmons refocused.

He listened, and he watched…

 

**♒ Remembering Through Dreams ♒**

Simmons woke up on the city transit, and almost, immediately, took stock.

He got confused about… a lot of things. Even what time of year it was, or _when_ it was, and where… Well, he just found it easiest to take stock right away.

The first thing he noticed was that they weren’t in their school uniform, but, were actually wearing regular, casual clothes.

Uh… for them, anyway. What they’d been _allowed_ to wear.

So, they had on a long-sleeved maroon (Simmons had always loved the color, and even Richard liked it okay.) button-up shirt with polished buttons that matched their tan slacks. And, they were wearing one of the pairs of leather cowboy boots their father, and then, mother after he’d left, had made Simmons wear, that both Simmons and Richard hated…

* _Sigh_ * Yeah, real casual.

But, Richard had always assured Simmons and Jimmy that once they got out, they could wear whatever they wanted.

This had, especially, meant a lot to Jimmy for some reason that Simmons didn’t quite understand.

Speaking of Jimmy… They, also, had a scarf on.

Jimmy’s scarf.

It was extremely soft. Cream colored, with very, very light intertwining red, blue, and purple swirls, and tiny sparkles that caught, and shimmered in the light. It kinda clashed with what they were wearing, and, in general, was simply NOT something Richard would normally **ever** wear.

Although… Simmons had always secretly thought it was… kinda nice, and even Richard had had to admit it was “alright” when Jimmy had started pouting after he’d tried to put it on him. (Or, them, as Simmons had been there at that moment.)

Richard had wrapped it back around Jimmy’s neck, and told him it looked better on him. It was, “more his thing”. And, Simmons had heard Richard think that he wouldn’t be caught dead in that “girly-ass looking thing”… But, he’d, also, heard, and felt that Richard was sincere in that he actually _did_ like it on Jimmy...

Why was Richard wearing it, now?

Simmons didn’t quite understand what was going on…

He knew Jimmy’d swiped the scarf from his quite a bit older sister when she’d come home to visit one weekend, and she’d let him keep it, but told him, “But, whatever you do, don’t let Mom or Dad ever see you wear it, or anything like… you know, anything like- like _that_. Alright?”

Simmons and Richard had been staying over that weekend, as they had so many weekends back before… something… something had happened…

Jimmy had… moved?

But, without his family, though? That didn’t make any sense…

And, Simmons knew how much the scarf meant to Jimmy. He loved his sister. Even Richard had liked her fine.

But, she terrified Simmons, and he never knew how to talk to her. It made him feel like an idiot.

That was alright, though, as she was very rarely around due to not living at home, and the age difference, anyway...

Simmons realized that as he was getting lost in thought, Richard was running the soft fabric of the scarf through slightly shaky fingers. Again and again. Periodically, pulling the ends up, and burying his, well, _their_ (Although Richard didn’t seem to be aware of that, yet.), face into it.

Inhaling. Like he was trying to catch Jimmy’s scent...

Weird…

But, it DID smell like him. Like cinnamon, and wood shavings. Jimmy’d always been obsessed with a particular cinnamon candy since they were little kids. He kind of just loved cinnamon, in general. And, Richard had got him a cinnamon-based… body spray? Cologne? Simmons couldn’t remember.

He _did_ remember how Jimmy’s room, and his, too, had been filled with his whittled wooden creations. Animals, and Angels, and dragons, and underwater sea monsters…

So many cool, amazingly precise little treasures... many that Simmons’ father had destroyed the night Simmons thought his arm must’ve been broken by- but he couldn’t really remember that part, and Richard told him it had been an accident…

Richard bit down on their tongue, jaw quivering. Eyes squeezed shut.

His shoulder’s trembled. Shook. _Their_ shoulder’s shook. Physically shook. _Externally_. Where anyone could see and exploit the weakness…

But, he didn’t cry.

Although… he seemed like he _wanted_ to…  


**♒ ♒ ♒ ♒ ♒ ♒ ♒ ♒**  


  
Simmons simply watched, and wondered what the hell this was all about. He just wanted to get back to Grif, and-and, maybe, he didn’t WANT to remember anything, after all. Maybe, Richard knew best.

He wanted to wake up. Why couldn’t he wake up-

But, he couldn’t. And, when the younger him quietly asked Richard what felt like the _oddest_ question, considering he was 17 at this time, in this memory, and the last clear memory (Richard let him have, Richard LET him have…) Simmons had of his friend was of when he’d been 13, and Jimmy had been 14…

Simmons shuddered… Oh, he didn’t- he didn’t want to be here.

But, he was sucked in, anyway. All at once, instead of just watching, he was _reliving_ the whole damn thing.

[“Richard… Where’s Jimmy?,” he heard himself ask, internally, “Why isn’t he here with us, right n-”]

Richard seemed overwhelmed by the question. And, caught off guard, and in such a fragile state (Richard! _Fragile ?_ Unbelievable. **What** had happened?!) at that moment, he thought of the dark-haired young boy. He _pictured_ him.

And, Simmons, _both_ of them, the one in the memory, and the one reliving it, had a hell of a freaking **shock**.

Because, that was not the 14 year old Jimmy that Simmons seemed to remember last seeing a handful of years ago.

No.

This Jimmy was, _definitely_ , a few years older.

He looked, in Richard’s mind’s eye, which younger Simmons was tapping into, so to speak, like he was around Simmons’ _current age_ , at the time. Or, almost a year older, Simmons supposed, as Jimmy _had_ always been around a year (9 months) older, after all.

So… between seventeen, and eighteen? Already eighteen? (How the hell old were _they_ right now?)

And, as if just seeing something so unexplainable wasn’t enough… (How could he know exactly what Jimmy looked like at that age if they hadn’t seen him in years?)... Simmons saw… saw so much more… Richard and Jimmy at that age, and they were together, and, they obviously _had_ been together, but… they weren’t simply together, or older than Simmons, or his younger self, had remembered them being while still together…

Ohhh, no...

Something had happened to them. To all of them. And, although, Richard didn’t think of it specifically, Simmons knew the moment Richard’s memory washed over him that something- something very, very bad had gone down.

And, Richard had hid it. Had hid it, _and_ hid Jimmy from him…

The memory was so clear, so… oh, God… so _recent_ , that it was easy to sink into it…

 

  
**Another Broken Child,**  
**Broken Like a Toy.**  
**Damaged and Reviled,**  
**Cause He Loved Another Boy.**  
__________________________________________  


  
Jimmy tried to hold his hands steady in his lap. With his fingers interlaced, and his knuckles going nearly white. But, still, they trembled in a continuous and unnatural fashion.

For a moment, Richard just stood there. Even though he knew it made Jimmy uncomfortable, he couldn’t look away from those slender quivering fingers. Wondering… Wondering if they were worse today.

Wondering if HE was worse today…

Finally, the redhead let out a quiet sigh, and sat back down on the bed facing the other teen. He reached out, and gently touched his too pale cheek.

Then, noticing that it had gotten all askew from earlier when he’d tried to almost kiss the breath out of the other boy…

-It’d been the first time they’d seen each other in almost 2 weeks, for fuck’s sake!-

And, after what Jimmy had done…

How close Richard had come, _again_ , to almost… almost losing him…

Richard shook away the thoughts as he carefully straightened the cream scarf around the dark-haired teenager’s neck.

When the redhead found himself, distractedly, tracing one of the different-colored swirls on the so soft fabric, he forced himself to focus.

He wanted to just take him, and get the fuck out. Have the three of them really be together, again…

But, that hadn’t worked out so well the last time they’d tried… Dammit! Fuck!… No. No. Can’t… Can’t think about that. It was okay… It was alright… Yeah, it- it was… Goddammit. He was trying to use Simmons’ words on _himself_ …

Whatever. They’d- They’d figure it out. They just had to be smart, and better prepared next time.

Richard took Jimmy’s hands, and clasped them in both of his. Brought them to his lips. He whispered, “You have to trust me. Just a little bit longer.”

The dark-haired teenager murmured something that would have been indecipherable to anyone else.

But, Richard understood, and was appalled that Jimmy would even think to call his love, or loyalty, into question after all these years. He pressed the other boy’s hands, that, periodically, still slightly twitched, to his chest, “…Of course I do. You _know_ that, Jimmy. How the fuck can you even think such bullsh- Wait. Are your parents messing with your head, again? It’s your mom, isn’t it?  That bitch. Your father knows better, by now- I’ll deal with it, alright?…”

The other boy just bowed his head. Nodded slightly.

“And, Raven, I know it makes you nuts being all cooped up, and stuck here like this, but you can’t just give the hell up whenever we aren’t together. Do you remember what you promised me? Remember? You **promised** me, Jimmy. You gotta remember that when we’re not together. You know Senior, -Simmons’ father, _what-ever_ -, won’t let us… not in the open… I still have to play along for now. We gotta be careful. You know he’s fucking insane. He really thinks he ‘knows’ _me_ , or something. Or- or… knew me… But, that doesn’t make any fucking sense! And, fuck him! I’m not who he- who he says I- Oh, he’s frickin’ nuts! And, Jimmy, Senior _hates_ Simmons so much it… it can get  scary, man. I don’t get it… He IS totally his son… It’s just- I- I don’t know… So, believe me, whatever the deal, between that, and needing to get you the hell out of here, I promise you, we won’t stay one second longer than we have to. And, we’re almost there… If we do this right, we can get out without anyone else getting hurt. You said that’s what you wanted, Raven. If it was just my choice here… Hell, I don’t care if they all end up like that bitch from the camp…”

Jimmy shuddered, and grimaced as his fingers rubbed nervously against the polished buttons on Richard’s maroon long-sleeved shirt.

“Shit…,” Richard winced, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. Just forget about it, ok- Dammit! I wish I could help you forget about it all like I can with Simmons. I hate that I- Listen. Just don’t go feeling bad for someone who hurt all of us so much. Nobody _forced_ her to do that shit to kids, Jimmy. And, trust me, she was evil as fuck. She just loved fucking with me about what they were doing to you… Maybe if she would’ve kept her fat mouth shut, she wouldn’t have got what was fucking coming to her! _Son of a bitch_ , I wish I could get my hands on her, again-”

The dark-haired boy squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a second as if to will unwanted images away.

Then, as they were still tightly held in Richard’s own, he tapped their joined hands to the center of the redhead’s upper chest, and shook his head.

Richard fell silent.

After a quiet moment, he let out a long breath, and chuckled weakly, “Still… Still tryin’ ta’ ‘save my soul’, huh, little Bean? No matter how much you’ve chilled out, some shit never changes with you…”

The other boy pressed closer to him. Breathed out a low sigh. And, Richard softly insisted, “I AM trying. I promise. It’s just hard… I can’t just LET people get away with hurting the two of you… And, even that woman, she just did what the Almighty Richard Simmons Senior the First fucking told her to do… Do you know how hard it is for me to have to deal with that son of a bitch after how much he hurt Simmons?... And, me- But, fuck it! I don’t care about me! I can take care of myself. I can Protect Simmons from him as much as possible. But, then, that old fuck drags you into all of this?! Just to get to me? And, your parents are so fucking money hungry, they don’t give a shit. They’re insane. They’re all fucking insane… I can’t- I don’t… Fuck.”

The dark-haired older, but smaller teenager tilted his head up to look into Richard’s bright green eyes, and he kissed him gently. An obvious attempt to comfort. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but his gaze was cloudy, and tired.

And, he was silent.

Richard let go of the other boy’s hands, smoothed down his soft scarf, and cradled his face in his palms. His green eyes narrowed, as he looked thoughtfully, and then suspiciously, into the smaller boy’s large and so dark eyes, “What the hell do they have you on, right now? Is it new?”

When Jimmy frowned a little, looked unsure, then, shrugged, Richard continued, agitatedly, as he ran his thumbs over Jimmy’s cheekbones, “Cause they’re not supposed to pull that shit without talking to me first! They know the fucking deal! Not after what happened last time!... Look. I might hate the asshole, and he might be fucking batshit, but we all have an agreement here, and I WILL get Senior involved if I have to-”

Jimmy’s dark eyes widened in dread, and he, vehemently, shook his head. Fearfully, mouthed the word, “No, no”, over and over, again.

Richard sighed, again, and pulled him to him. Mumbling a curse at his thoughtlessness, he was, instantly, pushing his anger aside, and almost crooning, “Alright, alright. Sorry. I’m sorry. Relax, okay? Come on, Jimmy Bean, you know you can’t get worked up… I don’t want you having another seizure...You’re alright. Nobody’ll ever hurt you, or Simmons, or me, none of us, like that ever again. That’s why I’m doing this, Jimmy. I know you don’t like it, but it was the only way…” He pressed him gently against him, rather than crushing him to his chest as he would have liked. But, the other boy was frighteningly, and inexplicably, thin, now.

His bones felt hollow as a bird’s…

Were those fuckers even bothering to make sure he ate right?, he wondered, as he rubbed his back, and the other boy clung to him, the tension in his small frame slowly seeming to ease.

But, Jimmy’s hands… his hands… The tremors were slight, and not as constant, but they were there. So much better than before, but still there.

And, it fucking **infuriated** Richard so much that he had to focus to keep Jimmy from seeing it.

It had been so, so fucking long, and still… And, now, he was getting so goddamn thin…

They weren’t fulfilling their end! They were supposed to look out for him! At least, keep him as well as possible until Richard could get the three of them the fuck out. Not that they knew that was the plan, but… If anything happened- anything _else_ happened- to his Jimmy, he’d _smash_ their fucking heads in! He’d bathe in their motherfucking blood! He’d-

He felt Jimmy curl closer into him, obviously, sensing the rage bubbling to the surface, and trying to soothe him before it completely took hold. It made Richard feel bad. It was HIS job to take care of the boys. To take care of Simmons. To take care of Jimmy. But, no matter how hard he tried to hide things from the dark-haired boy, it never worked. At least, he could keep all this from the kid… Though, fuck, that was getting harder, too…

Like Jimmy read his mind, he tried to ask, -still hiding his face in Richard’s chest, but he genuinely tried-…,”S-Ss-Sim-”

“Simmons is fine.” Richard told him, soothingly, “He misses you, too… * _Sigh_ * I know you’re mad at me for keeping you two apart, right now, but Jimmy, I can’t let him see you when you're like this. Not before we _really_ get out. You know what happened last time.” He started to sound more and more edgy, “He’ll start remembering everything, and that’s, definitely, not safe while we’re still here… I’ve tried easing him into it, but he still just loses it. It’s like, either, he doesn’t know anything, or he remembers practically the whole damn thing. And, then, he’s babbling about her blood on our hands, and slasher porn, and being strapped down, and ‘zapped’-”

Jimmy pulled back, visibly upset. He curled a hand around Richard’s jaw. Made sure he was looking directly at him, then mouthed, “But. How?...”

Richard grabbed the slender hand (That was still wracked by the slightest of tremors.) that rested on his face, squeezing it in agitation.

“Mother fuck! I don’t know! I don’t have a clue how he- I didn’t let him be there for that shit! Maybe, I messed up, was too fucked in the head about what was going on, and thought of stuff I shouldn’t have when he was with me,” Richard admitted, but, then, insisted, “but not- not _that_. And, if that’s not bad enough, he starts talking about when we found you, and about **him**. Ah, fuck, Jimmy, it’s too damn much. I can’t just give it to him piecemeal like we want to. Like we **need** to. He goes from not remembering shit, to remembering it ALL, flipping out, and, then, shutting down. You know he was _there_ when it really went down, when that bitch pushed me over the edge… and he’s the one who helped me find you in that hellhole after I… He really was right. I couldn’t have found you on my own in that place. Heh. It’s- It’s nuts… Damn place wasn’t even that big, but… I… I was too fuckin' angry. I just wanted to keep smashing that fucking bitch to pieces… If he hadn't stopped me..."

He closed his eyes. He couldn't ever let himself think about it... What they'd done to them... Using some arrogant, hateful cunt to do their dirty work… How far that bitch had pushed him... How hard it had been to come back to some semblance of normalcy after tasting the rage, the vengeance… the sweet flavor of retribution...

Jimmy wrapped his arms securely around Richard's neck, nuzzled into his throat, and let out a calming sigh. _Can_ a sound such as a sigh sound “calming”? Apparently so. In Richard’s opinion, anyway. And, Jimmy’d had years to perfect non-verbal communication, after all…

Distracted from his rising fury (Which had, obviously, been Jimmy's plan. He could be a sly little Bean.), Richard kissed his shoulder, then, rested his head, tiredly, down on it. Jesus. They’d fucked them up so bad. It’d taken the longest time until they’d been able to really touch each other, again. Even, just like this…

"...I can’t wait ‘til we can all be together, again, and not have any damn secrets…,” Richard murmured, “It’s so hard to keep all this from the Kid… Heh. You know how he is. He likes to call it curious. But, I just call it freakin' nosy…”

They both laughed a little fondly, and it made Richard smile, and hold him a bit tighter.

But, it didn’t take long before Richard’s smile faltered, and he pulled back to look at him. Speaking quietly as his long, slender fingers ran through Jimmy's raven black hair. God, it was taking forever to grow back to as long as it had been before…

“Jimmy? I want you to listen, okay? It’s important. Are you listening?,” Richard asked, only continuing when Jimmy hummed an assent, “You have to _try_. Don’t ever- I don’t care about any of the other shit. You know that. We talked about this. Screw it. It’s in the past. You can’t keep punishing yourself. You think I don’t know that’s what you’re doing with this dumbass shit? I DON’T blame you… But, you promised me when I got you out of there that you weren’t going to do anything like this… Jimmy, you have to stop this! You **promised** me. And, then you… Just don’t ever do anything… like that, again… It _hurts_ me… I know you just wanna get wasted, and escape reality for a while. I fucking get it. But, with the meds you’re on… You can’t mix that crap- Goddammit, you really could’ve fucking died this time, Jimmy!...”

As his voice became louder, more strained, Richard, abruptly, released the other boy, as though afraid to touch him when he was getting so increasingly agitated and furious, “You HAVE to be more careful! No more drinking! No more tranqs! Mother Fuck, I’m so **pissed** that you’re pulling this shit, again, Raven. I can’t even _believe_ you’d do this after what happened to Simmons- And, I don’t give a fuck how many years ago that was! I _have_ to be able to trust you! I can’t be with you all the time, yet! I’m trying to get us the fuck out of here, you idiot! Jimmy, I’m gonna go _fucking insane_ if something happens to you! I don’t know what I might do to them! It’s their fault you’re even sick like this, at all! And, then- And, then, what will happen to Simmons if I completely lose it?... We kinda got lucky, in a way, last time I lost my shit.  Nobody really cared about that bitch, but-”

The smaller teen cut him off by climbing right into his lap. His sudden tears wetting Richard’s shirt, and sidetracking him from all his deep-seated fears and anxiety. Helplessness and anger.

Jimmy was too upset to even endeavor a token attempt at speech. He simply traced the letters: S, O, R, R, Y into Richard’s chest until he wrapped his arms back around him.

Richard simply held the silently weeping, beloved other boy so close. Whispering sweet words meant only for him into his ear until he calmed… Even at his age, Jimmy was still such a boy. Much like Simmons in some respects. Such an innocent in Richard’s eyes, despite his screw-ups.

Richard quietly held him long after he’d stopped crying… That was one of the ways the other boy was very different from Simmons. His nose didn’t run like a faucet when he got upset. Richard had teased Jimmy playfully, in the past, telling him he was the “pretty crier”, while Simmons had rolled their eyes, and snorted at the two of them.

But, with those wet thick, black lashes… bright, nearly liquid black eyes, and flushed skin… Yeah. When the waterworks got going, Richard could never focus on anything but him.

Although, the relationship was, obviously, very different, it was the same with the Kid. Fuck, he **hated** when either of them cried.

The redhead only spoke again when his dark-haired loved one was half-dozing in his arms.

“…Just a little more time, okay? And, we’ll all get outta here… Then, we can all be together, again, just the three of us, alright?,” Richard murmured the words, kissing Jimmy’s forehead, “…You gotta try to be strong, in the meantime, though. Just try. Please, Raven? I know you can. You can’t give up. We’re so close, Jimmy Bean. We’re so damn close…”  


________________________

  
Simmons sat on the transit with his mouth hanging open. He had an absent thought that Richard had been wearing the same shirt that he had on, now, but crisp, pressed black jeans, rather than the tan slacks… But, before he could try to actually attempt to consciously delve deeper, find out what… what _mattered_. What it all **meant** … Richard realized he had gotten lost in their head, and had been sharing his thoughts, his memories, and he cut them off, as he snapped their jaw shut with an audible, almost painful click.

The Simmons that was, somehow, reliving all this through a dream, -that was recalling this memory _within_ a dream-, was beyond lost. Way past simply “confused”. What was going on! Hadn’t Richard said… Hadn’t Jimmy moved? Like _years_ ago? There was so damn MUCH that Simmons couldn’t remember over this time period.

Richard and Jimmy had first gotten together when Simmons was around eleven, and Simmons had thought they’d been together a couple years, but… something in him realized… he didn’t really know anything. Didn’t know what all the secrets were that Richard had apparently been keeping from him over those past four years.

…Six years? Had they- Had Richard and Jimmy been together, in some form or fashion for- for not two, but- but _**six** years_?

How… How was that even possible? How could Richard have messed with his memories in SUCH an extreme fashion. And… and worse of all, how horrifyingly **bad** must it have been for him to do so in the first place… What… what had been going on? What had happened to Jimmy?... To them?

And, what did his father have to do with all of this? How did he “know” Richard? That was bullshit!

Yeah, sure. Maybe, it was weird. That his father had always been Richard Senior, which seemed like the First, and Simmons had been the Third, but there WAS such a thing as coincidences, or- or…

Right?

Oh, God. Hadn’t Richard said his father WAS the First, though? To Jimmy? Why did Simmons not seem to know this?! It seemed like such an odd thing to not know! Data that would be public record, and could be so easily looked up on a datapad…

He was so confused. So overwhelmed by the sudden flood of information to pick through…

Information he’d, apparently, found out about back at the time of this memory, and, then, lost track of, again!

Why did he not know _years_ worth of things... Of events taking place, and people involved, in his day-to-day life?

Confusing crap! Bewildering bullshit!

He wanted to know everything. He HAD to know-

  
Apparently, the younger him had felt the same. And, while he may have been afraid, he was, also, _pissed_.

[“Richard, what’s going on?! Why are you remembering things differently than me?! Why are we here? How long ago did we leave the house?,” Simmons demanded in rapid succession, overflowing with fear, and, yes, even, fury, although he was able to keep his words, and all of it internal, “Why do we have his scarf? It isn’t like you to wear something like this, and he **always** loved it, and-and- What’s my father have to do with any of this- And, who-who- What ‘bitch’? And, Jimmy, he was THERE. You-you LIED to me! Why couldn’t he talk right?! And, did you say _seizure_?! And, his hands kept shaking, and where-WHERE IS HE-”]

“Hey. Is… anybody sitting next to you?,” a much too smooth (In Richard’s opinion.), cliché as all get out voice interrupted them.

They all looked up… and there was this- this guy.

He was tall. Taller than them. He was, _definitely_ , older than them, too. Somewhere in his late-twenties to mid-thirties, maybe? One of those people that, probably, were older than they looked, though (He had that “I moisturize and exfoliate religiously” look.), so who knows.

Simmons wasn’t sure why this guy- this- this _man_ was even talking to, uh, younger him, he guessed.

He just looked up at the stranger, green eyes impossibly wide, and startled. Not _trying_ to look more tempting. More vulnerable. But, well, crap…

The part of him that was reliving this, had a moment to be, honestly, amazed at how naïve he’d been before- Before he felt himself sinking into it all, again. Becoming less distinguishable between his younger self in this memory, and his older self that was reliving it.

He couldn’t have told you who looked up at the stranger, anymore. He was too deep in. Completely baffled by the turn of events, and distracted from all earlier thoughts…

The guy was clean-cut, and very blonde. With gray eyes (Simmons had never, actually, seen that before in real life. Huh. Interesting.), and tanning booth dark skin. He was dressed very similarly to Simmons and Richard, only with a dark blue shirt, and leather lace-up dress shoes, rather than embarrassing leather cowboy boots.

Simmons kinda thought, _maybe_ , he was nice-looking? In like a your friend’s _way_ older brother kinda way. Not that he’d known anybody like that, but he assumed that was how people would, ya know, see the guy.

Not Richard, though. He HATED him on first sight.

[“Who’s this fucking pervert?,” he hissed to Simmons in their head. He was obviously completely distracted from all earlier thoughts by his inherent need to Protect.  
“Oh my God, don’t freaking make a scene, Richard! If you get us kicked off-”  
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled.]

The guy had sat down beside them before they could answer, and tell him whether or not that was cool, anyway…

Simmons didn’t know what to think about that.

_Ohhh_ , but Richard did.

It, of course, just pissed him off even more.

“So, I haven’t seen you around. Normally, it’s the same faces day after day. But you? I’d remember you. You stand out,” the guy told them, smiling in a way Simmons assumed was meant to be charming, but Richard assured him was creepy as all hell.

Simmons was kind of embarrassed, and he didn’t know what to say. He must’ve looked like no one had ever talked to him before.

Well, maybe, because no one ever really had. Not like _this_.

“So, you go to school around here? What’s your name?,” the guy asked, quietly.

He was eyeing them **way** too closely. Up and down. Like he was a hungry dog, and they were a T-bone steak. Rare.

Although, obviously, he thought he was only dealing with one person at the moment.

He’d moved a little closer. His thigh was brushing theirs.

“Um… I- I don’t…,” Simmons stammered, and moved his leg a little away so they weren’t touching. He didn’t know him. He didn’t know him!

[“Oh my fucking God. He thinks- Kid, I don’t think you understand how young you look with your hair up in that pony tail deal. I, mean, it looks good… Fuck! I wasn’t thinking about fucking pervs! It’s my fault. I just wanted it outta my face, and I _hate_ how you always put it back in that goody-goody low tail, just so it looks ‘less girly’. I, mean, shit, man, I don’t wanna look fuckin’ girly, either, but ya know, some crap just _does_ look better… Goddammit!”  
“What?! Oh God, Richard, what?!”  
“This fucker realizes, he KNOWS, you’re a ‘runaway’, _and_ he thinks you’re like in fuckin’ Junior High, or some shit! I just know it! He’s a fuckin’ cho-mo, dude!”  
“I don’t know what that means! And, no! That’s not true! You can’t just ‘know’ that! I’m not a little kid, anymore! I’m _seventeen_! That’s almost a, ya know, grown-up or… _Whatever_ , Richard! You don’t trust, anyone! I’m sure whoever this guy is, he doesn’t think I’m some school kid! We’re not even IN school, anymore, dammit!... Right? No, yeah, right! We graduated early. I remember THAT! And- And, shut up already! If I look young, than so do YOU, Richard!]

“You’re awful quiet, kid. Don’t be scared. You need someplace to crash for the night?,” the guy whispered. His breath was hot in their ear, because he was, abruptly, THAT close. His thigh wasn’t simply brushing theirs like before, but, instead, his arm was stretched out across the back of their seat (If they leaned back, his arm would be around them.), and he’d pressed close enough that they could be joined at the hip.

Simmons shivered. Goosebumps rising on his pale, slender arms. He was, suddenly, very, very tense. There weren’t a lot of people around them, hardly anyone, but those that were there seemed to be very busy minding their own business.

[“That’s. Fucking. It.” Richard was **seething**.]

And, very swiftly, although not exactly unexpectedly considering the circumstances, he took completely over.

But, to Simmons’ surprise, he let him stick around.

[“I want you to _remember_ this, Simmons.” He growled in their head. Deciding, apparently, to explain himself, “What if something happens to me… I might not always be here to protect you from this shit-”  
“Richard, NO!,” Simmons gasped, internally, and he, immediately, forgot all about the creep, and wanted to cry, “What’s that mean?! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”  
“Simmons, _stop it_. You know, I’ll never leave you if I can help it… EVER… but… things happen that you don’t always expect… Now, chill the fuck out, so I can focus… So, you think you can trust this dude, huh?”  
“NO, Richard! Dammit, I never _said_ that! He seems sorta creepy-... Richard. Is that a- how did you get that on here?”  
“Shh-shh-shh… I love ya, Kid, but I’m busy.” And, Richard’s slightly manic chuckles filled their mind.]

He turned toward the man, pressing firmly into his side, tilting his head up… big, striking green eyes peering up at him from underneath thick, long lashes.

Simmons was _beyond_ shocked. When had Richard- What was he doing? One second he was thinking about what he had in their back pocket that Simmons could not _believe_ he hadn’t noticed earlier. And, the next…

Richard had never been a- a flirt! That was Jimmy. Between the three of them, Jimmy’d always been the “flirt”. Well, only with Richard, but…

“Someplace to ‘crash’? Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble if someone sees you with me?,” Richard played the man like a fiddle. Made himself sound uncertain, and worried all while he was radiating a frightening degree of hostility inside their own head, “Do you know, uh, how old I am? I just don’t want you to get into trouble for trying to… help me…”

The blonde man was looking down into Richard’s eyes. He didn’t even seem to register how strange it was that the teen he had his sights on had went from nearly speechless as a cornered lil’ bunny to tentative, but completely calm in a matter of moments. He seemed a little mesmerized, “You don’t worry about me. You can’t be _that_ young… What? 14? 15?...”

[Simmons squawked in offense, “I DO NOT- We do NOT look that young! Asshole!”]

The guy hummed kinda distractedly, but, also, appreciably, “You can’t be older than 16, right?... _Mmmm_ … Damn, I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but you’re pretty enough to be a girl, you know that?… Come on, tell me your name. Gotta have something to call you if you’re coming home with me, right?”

That smile, again. That charming and/or creepy smile.

[“This son of a bitch actually thinks he’s smooth,” Richard snickered to Simmons in their head.  
“Richard, I don’t-,” Simmons’ voice was so very small, “I-I don’t wanna go with him-”  
“Pfft. Kid, gimme a goddamn break,” Richard sounded completely blasé. As though he was talking about the weather, “I’ll slit his fucking throat before we go anywhere with him-”]

Although, Richard had complete control of their body, Simmons internally gasped so loudly that Richard actually physically winced.

And, the guy saw it, and seemed to _like_ it for some reason. His smile grew, and he chuckled under his breath. As though a returning sign of weakness in the redhead really pleased him.

[“This fuck thinks he’s dealing with some little pretty boy he can play sick, twisted games with,” Richard snarled to Simmons even as, externally, he looked away, supposedly, shyly, while the guy kept talking softly to him. “But, we know better, don’t we, Kid? You hurt one of mine, you fucking _PAY_. That bitch knows. Fucking _Senior_ knows, now! J-Jim-Jimmy’s fa-, _oh god, Jimmy, my Jimmy_ …,” Richard _moaned_ loudly in their head in agony and rage, and then, coldly, forced out, “…Jimmy’s father knows. He knows. _That fucker **really** knows, now, too_ … And… now, **this** fucker will, too. *Sigh* Yeah, that’ll… that’ll be good… ”]

Simmons could hear the buzzing in their head. He could _feel_ Richard’s desperate desire to give into it. To do “What he was meant to do.” To “Protect.”

He felt Richard reach back, and touch the blade in his back pocket. He was so cunning. You’d think he was simply stretching out his long, lean back. But, Simmons knew better. Suddenly, he knew better. He knew- He knew- After all, hadn’t their father and Jimmy’s father thought Richard was just refilling their glasses with b-bourbon right up until the crystal decanter had s-sm-smashed into the side of J-Jimmy’s fa-father’s head. And, even after- even after, with blood and bourbon splashed across father’s mahogany desk… their drunken father didn’t- he didn’t- he still didn’t believe he’d do- he’d do it... Not- Not to him…

[“Oh God, please, please, not again…” Simmons begged. Pleaded, “Please, Richard. Don’t. Don’t do it! What will happen to us if you do?! This guy’s just- just a creep. We can move. Sit somewhere else! He hasn’t _actually_ hurt us like they did. It’s not the same, Richard! Please, I’m scared! Please, don’t! If you do this- If they find us-”]

All at once, all Simmons could see were the man’s gray eyes, suddenly, widening in fear and disbelief, and-

Then, he was gone.

Poof.

Just gone.

And, Richard…

He was nowhere to be found.

Simmons opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t- he couldn’t- He was hyperventilating, and he could hardly _breathe_ , let alone scream.

Everything went dark.

And, he was alone.  


____________________________

  
Perhaps, this was an odd question, but…

Can your eyes pop out of your head in a dream? Probably so. As dreams can be pretty wild…

Simmons just wondered, cause it felt like a real possibility… when the creepy dude disappeared, and _Richard_ disappeared, and everything around him darkened… and, then, the lights on the transit came back on… only dimly… so dimly…

Very suddenly, of all things in the _world_ , he heard a voice he would know anywhere, at any time…

“Sup?”

Huh. Yep. He’d know that voice anywhere, alright. Even, apparently, in a frightening, much to real, dream.

And, he was pretty sure his eyes, at least, opened comically wide enough to warrant the whole “eyes pop out of your head” descriptor, even if-

Well, fuck. Just taking it at face value? It was shocking as all hell.

But, regardless, Simmons was secretly so relieved to see him, in dream-form, or no, that he could’ve burst into grateful tears.

Of course, with how on edge, on the razor’s edge between terror and insanity, he was, his bitchy side got the best of him.

“GRIF! What the fuck are you doing here- I didn’t even KNOW you, yet, dumbass!,” Simmons turned toward the wonderful son of a bitch that was suddenly _lounging_ in the seat beside him, right where the creepy dude had been sitting.

Oh, my fuck, he was wearing what he’d been wearing that night. That adorable as all hell red panda T-shirt, and-

“Grif, you idiot, you’re in your boxers,” Simmons hissed.

But, then, he looked down, and…

What the shit? _He_ was, too! They were both wearing what they’d been wearing that night…

Not that anyone else in this dream seemed to notice that. Or, even notice _them_ , at all.

Grif just looked at him with his favorite smirky, “I’m so much cooler than you, and everybody knows it” expression.

Simmons huffed irritatedly, “I’m not talking to you. You’re just a construct in my mind made up of-”

Grif spoke. Calmly. Curiously. He asked, “So, you’re gonna tell me, right?”

Simmons flinched back. He had to remind himself that this was only a dream. Maybe, it’d been like a memory, at first, but, obviously, he was fully dreaming, now. This hadn’t happened-

“Simmons,” All at once, he looked a little more serious than chill, “You know what all this shit means, right? Why you’re remembering this, now? Come on, dude. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one-“

“Shut up, asshole!,” Simmons slapped at his chest. Oh, God… He felt so **solid**. Just like the real Grif… But, no!, “You’re not really you! You’re just a freaking dream, and-”

“Do you think your friend’s dea-,” Grif ignored him, and started to ask thoughtfully.

Simmons actually covered his ears, as if that could block out the words, “No, no! Don’t, don’t- I don’t wanna- Just shut your fucking mouth!”

Where had everyone gone? Through-out the memory, and even as it had shifted fully into a dream, there had been people around. Even, just a moment ago, Simmons had gotten freaked out about Grif (And, himself.), even in a dream, being in boxers in public. In front of other people. But, abruptly, there were no “other people”. He, and Grif were, very suddenly, the only ones there.

Grif, or Dream Grif, whoever he was, either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Probably both. He continued, completely calmly, as if his words weren’t frightening as fuck. “And, this ‘Richard’ dude just convinced himself it happened differently so he could keep it together enough to be there for you? Or what?”

“N-No. People- People move away, Grif. It happens…,” Simmons heard himself insisting as his stomach churned. Was he going to dream-puke? Could that happen in a dream? Grif needed to shut the fuck up. “Wait, why am I talking to you? You’re not even Grif! Fuck off!”

“Dude, does that really matter, right now? You’re living with some fucking spooky-ass ghost with your name,-”

“You fucking prick! He’s _NOT_ ! That’s BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT!,” Simmons shrieked, furiously.

Dream Grif paid no attention to him. He reached behind Simmons’ head, pulled his ponytail out, and tossed his- what the hell? Was that _Grif’s_ orange scrunchie thingy? Simmons, sure as fuck, hadn’t worn that, or anything like it… ever. Odd. Well, it wasn’t **that** big a deal.

Except, he wasn’t gonna lie. It was hard to not either cry or slug the son of a bitch when Dream Grif, -hell, Simmons was simply gonna think of him as “Grif”, even though, he SO knew that he was an imposter… Knowing things Grif had never, **could** never know-, or “ _Grif_ ” (Imposter Grif!) threw it on the ground, and continued to speak all nonchalantly, “-Or, fine, some ‘spirit’, or a split of your ‘psyche’. Whatever the fuck he is, seems like your _dad_ found out about him, and more than prefers him over you, hell, he even thinks he ‘ _knew_ ’ or ‘ _knows_ ’ him. Whatever _that_ means… You startin’ to remember, at all? Remember one of the times you were there, but they didn’t realize, yet, and your dad told him to just ‘get rid’ of you, already? And, he freaked the fuck out, and tried to attack the old man, actually climbed right over that big-ass desk to get at him, -although, man, he _totally_ should’ve known better, by that point-,… He was all shouting at him, ‘Fuck you! I told you, no one hurts the Kid! No one hurts Jimmy! No one hurts either of them, or I’m out! We have a deal, you old fuck!’… Remember? Remember that, Simmons? And, then the old man, -Damn he’s tall, by the way. What is he? 6’5”, or somethin’? Shit.-, Well, whatever. Then, he all laughs like a prick, but like he’s proud, too, huh? Cause he just _loves_ the violent son, right? So, he laughs, but he still socks him in the face, and it all goes dark… Hmph. Pretty wild.”

Simmons groaned miserably, and covered his too pale face with his hands, “Please… go away… You’re not Grif. You’re not Grif. You’re just some asshole version of me, right? And, since Grif’s perfected blunt assholery- turned it into a frickin’ art form… you’re just manifesting as him so you can word-vomit terrible realizations and recollections at me, and I’ll just **take it** like a _little bitch_ …”

No reply from Imposter Grif.

Simmons scoffed into his hands, but didn’t look up. As, though, afraid to look at him, “Ha! Fuck you, _me_ ! I out-thought you, you pretentious prick! Grif couldn’t know these things. **I** don’t even understand what they mean… It’s insane! My father’s insane. Richard’s _gone_ insane more than once- It’s all fucking insane! Nothing makes sense, and the harder I try to remember, the more my head _hurts_ … And- And, yeah, I’ll say Richard’s name if I want to, because you aren’t Grif, you’re ME! And, guess what _ME_. I DON’T BELIEVE in that cr-crazy shit my father believes in. About… About Richard… I don’t… I won’t- No.  No… I wanna wake up. I wanna be back in bed. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about ANY of this! I want to be with my Grif, not with you-”

At those words, Dream aka Imposter Grif grasped his chilly hands that hid his face, in his unexpectedly incredibly warm ones, and pulled them down.

Could hands feel cold or warm in a dream?...

Although, Simmons, desperately, tried to distract himself with mundane musings, the moment those so warm hands reached back up, and pressed onto his suddenly icy cheeks, it felt like the heat was seeping all the way down deep, deep into his frozen bones. He wanted to sink into the comfort of it. To give in.

But, it felt too similar to what he’d just seen. Of Richard touching Jimmy. Trying to get him to listen.

And, it brought up thoughts and fears that Simmons desperately didn’t want to deal with. To remember.

But, when he tried to shy away, to pull back… this iteration of Grif, or whatever the hell it was, didn’t let him.

“So you’re gonna tell me, right?” Head slightly cocked, ebony hair long and loose against his tanned skin (So different from that scary older guy. Grif’s skin always looked naturally tanned, rather than artificially baked.), Grif asked it, again.

But, then, he continued, “Cause, I hear you, man, and I get it. But, shit, dude, _**focus**_. This really IS pretty wild. If somebody can make you forget _years_ of crap… What else could they… And, look, Simmons. If everything was as bad as you’re starting to think, and, then, it _really_ went to hell… You say he’s ‘gone insane more than once’, like that was in the past or something, but you can’t even remember exactly what went down, or you forget it, again, if you start to remember, or like this memory deal, it cuts off before you even find out what the fuck happened… I’m just wondering… Okay, try to follow me here, cause this is confusing as shit… So, if everything went to hell back when you were a kid, -Not a ‘kid’ like he calls you, but, ya know, like 13, or whatever-, and your friend, his _boyfriend_ , got all fucked up in some traumatic, horrible thing you all went through, but he won’t let you remember… Following me so far?”

Simmons minutely nodded. Grif’s (Imposter, or no.) hands on his skin steadied him.

“Alright. So, he was having to juggle that, and your insane dad that fucking found out, somehow, and whatever that old dude had him doing, whatever this ‘Deal’ was, and he was having to watch out for you AND hide it all from you for _years_ … And, all so the three of you could get out together, and, probably, ya know, ‘heal’ ‘n just get better an’ shit… But, then, it all falls apart, somehow, and goes to hell right before everything he worked so hard for was right in your guys’ reach… Huh. I dunno. I guess it just makes me wonder… How sane do you think he even is, anymore? Ya know? How close to the edge is he? And, how the fuck can you deal with it on your own, man? Seems like a dumb idea to me. _Risky_. And, you call **me** the dumbass…”

Simmons wanted to yell at… well, he guessed himself. Obviously, this dream version of Grif was just telling him what he, himself, had come to realize… but…

“…I’m sorry…,” Simmons murmured, lowly, refusing to meet his eyes. Even if it wasn’t _really_ Grif, it still hurt too much, “I’m not…  I’m not ready…. I don’t… I don’t want him to think I’m fucking c-crazy… I just don’t… I don’t wanna lose him…”

“Lose who? Me? Ah, dude, it’s cool. I _know_ you love me, but what kinda lame-ass excuse is _that_? Love just makes you a bigger pussy, huh?” That secretly beloved smug grin… Simmons could _hear_ it, even when he wasn’t looking up to see it.

“Shut up, dumbass,” he mumbled, but softly. So softly.

Neither of them spoke again until Simmons looked up at the other man in this dream that he so wanted to escape... Although… God, his eyes were so strikingly blue. Like, a really in your face kinda blue. Maybe, that was, also, part of why Sarge couldn’t stand him? Simmons caught himself wondering if they were really that blue in real life. He thought they were, but-

His hands were still on Simmons' face. And, he looked at him, and said, again, in a voice way too serious for Grif, “You know what could happen, right? If you don’t say anything? If you keep a secret this fuckin’ big from someone this close to you? You get it, right? The chance you’re taking?”

Simmons actually felt his teeth just barely chitter against each other. Not quite chattering…

“You’re too afraid,” he sighed, disappointedly, and pulled Simmons roughly to him. Crushed him against him.

Simmons didn’t even care at that point that it was a dream. That he KNEW it was a dream.

He burrowed into _warmth_.

He was so warm. So solid. So, so _real_. In a life filled with empty spaces, and shattered memories, he was everything Simmons wanted. Flaws ‘n all.

But, Simmons couldn’t help but think that it was kinda sad how easily and freely he could admit that… but only while in an unconscious state.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” Simmons muttered into the other man’s throat, feeling annoyed with himself and overly emotional, “I’ll… I’ll try… But, I don’t know how the **real** you… really feels, yet… I just have ta’ be careful… until I know… What if- what if he’s just wanting, like, a friends w-with ben-benefits-?!”

“ _Jesus_. Quit squeaking, for fuck’s sake. You know that’s not true,” Dream Grif rubbed his back a little more roughly than soothingly. As though, he was dream- _annoyed_ by even the suggestion that real Grif would play such games.

Ha! Ridiculous. But, still…

“Well, until I hear differently, I, absolutely, am NOT spilling my guts for him- I mean, **to** him. Whatever… I _really_ wanna wake the fuck up, already. I… fuck it. I miss that idiot. * _Quiet Sigh_ *… Grif… ”

Simmons shivered.

One moment, he was remembering, and, then, dreaming with the Grif that, apparently, hung around in his head, and in his dreams (That was a little trippy when he thought about it.), and the next moment, his whole body tingled. From head to toe.

And, his big, bright green eyes opened.

Not peeped open. Or, snapped open all dramatically. But, just opened.

There was a fleeting moment of confusion. Of that ‘Where am I, what’s going on?’ bleary, blurriness in his eyes…

After all, the last time he had “woken up”, he’d awakened on the transit. Into a memory, that it seemed had gotten to be too much, and had “overloaded his system”, so to speak. Then he’d, actually, fallen into more of a dream, while, with a dream version of Grif’s help he tried to subconsciously figure out what the hell was going on. Hey, he needed all the help he could get! And, apparently, even subconsciously, he and Grif were practically inseparable…

It was all incredibly fuckin’ weird. Nobody had to tell him that. He knew.

In fact, considering the weirdness factor, he really shouldn’t be blamed for being incredibly lost when he first opened his eyes. He thought, for a split second, that he was waking up into another dream (Please, _please_ not another memory.)…

But, then, when Simmons’ gaze fell on Grif, zeroed in on him… he couldn’t tell you how, in that not entirely lucid state, he KNEW it was him, really _him_ , and that it wasn’t another dream…

But, he simply knew. Absolutely knew.

Was it his eyes? They really _were_ that blue. Incredibly blue.

Or, was it the _look_ in his eyes? Or, on his face… He was just barely, barely smiling. You could tell he had no idea that he even was. Like, simply seeing Simmons, right, then, when it was still just them… seeing him wake up in his bed, and look up… bright, yet, deep green meeting dark, brilliant blue… it was enough. Enough to bring that little upward twitch to his lips, and that completely spontaneous look of warmth into his eyes…

Simmons had no clue.

All he knew was that to see him in that moment, and only him… it was all he wanted. After all the traumatic bullshit that had been locked away so deep, and was, now, slowly unraveling… it was all he needed.

He thought, _I love you. I can’t help it. I just do._

And, if his mouth would’ve been working at that moment, he would’ve said it. He would’ve had no choice. But, instead, his mouth opened, a second past the internal declaration, and he, almost, whined, “ _Grif_ ”, before muttering, still sleepily, but urgently, as though he, currently, had no control over his tongue (Because, he _really_ didn’t.), “I missed you. I missed you so much…”

And, what else could he say, when the feeling was that strong. A tightness in his throat, and chest, and belly that had to be experienced to truly be understood.

Beyond butterflies. Or tingles. Or hunger. Or outright lust. A feeling so intense that in that first moment it can be described as _painfully_ good. Truly a “it hurts so good” moment if there ever was one.

But, Simmons wasn’t one to always ruminate on every little thing. Well… alright, alright. _Maybe_ , he was.

Regardless, of that, though, he didn’t spend longer than a handful of seconds to be overwhelmed by these foreign, yet, easily recognizable feelings…

Then, he was reaching up, twining his arms around Grif’s neck, and pulling him down on top of him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Possibility_ of supernatural goings-ons?  
>  I’m going to tell you all a secret that Richard, and Simmons, and, hell, even, Grif, don’t quite understand, right now. Richard has been Simmons’ Alter for many, many years, and despite the separation, and individually, the unspoken suspicions of a literal separate “soul” or “spirit”, if you will, it does not change that who Simmons is, and who he has been (Just his life, in general.), has been very, very greatly influenced by who could be currently suspected to be, either, a fragment of himself, or a “lost soul” drawn to him due to a possible familial bond. While _where_ Richard came from is important, it doesn’t change what he currently is, and has acted as all these years. There is, literally, no way, especially this early on, when no one is being honest with each other, and it’s just secrets, secrets everywhere, for them to understand what the deal is.
> 
> What it boils down to, though, is, regardless, of where Richard came from, or what he “is”, he still acts, and has acted in the capacity of Simmons’ Alter. With all the good, the bad, and the frightening amount of power that entails.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Hope all is well with you all. Much love!
> 
> ♡–MissyAnn❀


	14. You’re The One I Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons’ reaction was almost instantaneous. If Grif was gonna up the ante, well, son of a bitch, so was he!  
>   
> It wasn’t that he thought this consciously… exactly (If he HAD, he, likely, woulda been a lot more bold for the sake of “winning”.). He was simply naturally competitive when it came to things he took a liking to…  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Maybe a little, tiny bit NSFW here and there? I dunno. Not nearly as Explicit as it will get, so mentioning just to be safe, Referenced/Mentioned Blood and Violence, Trigger Warning: Referenced Torture of Underage Individuals, Characters have moments of insensitivity toward other sexualities, and genders, Referenced Self-Harm
> 
> This chapter is so long, it's actual madness. And, I actually broke this mofo into two chapters, as well, so, yeaaahhh... Maybe, get a snack? Or, take breaks to stretch your legs? ;p
> 
>  

_He thought, I love you. I can’t help it. I just do._

_And, if his mouth would’ve been working at that moment, he would’ve said it. He would’ve had no choice. But, instead, his mouth opened, a second past the internal declaration, and he, almost, whined, “ **Grif** ”, before muttering, still sleepily, but urgently, as though he, currently, had no control over his tongue (Because, he really didn’t.), “I missed you. I missed you so much…”_

_And, what else could he say, when the feeling was that strong? A tightness in his throat, and chest, and belly that had to be experienced to truly be understood…_

_…Then, he was reaching up, twining his arms around Grif’s neck, and pulling him down on top of him…_

Grif hardly had a chance to climb fully onto the bed. To reach an arm out beside Simmons’ slim form, in order to brace himself on the mattress so he didn’t actually fall right on top of the smaller, yet, taller, man below him.  
  
Before any coherent thoughts could fully form, he was grabbing ahold of the redhead’s trim waist in his free hand. Maybe, a little more forcefully than he had intended to… and with that growly grumble, that he swore he’d never made before that night, bubbling out of his throat. That sound that could’ve come across as annoyed, but, instead, this time, only sounded impatient and, even, needy…

Simmons was craning up to him as Grif was, suddenly, almost partially hovering over top him. Bracketing his body. Ensnaring him… Holding him down to the bed…

  
Simmons felt… caught. Deliciously, almost frighteningly, trapped. It added a nervous sizzle to the warming lust in his blood…

Captured, but found.

By one you trust. By the one you… the one… you love.

A desperate, almost _hurt_ , moan slipped unbidden from his parted lips.

And, he was untangling his trembling slender fingers from where they clutched Grif’s neck so hard it should’ve hurt.

But, Grif wasn’t complaining. And, when Simmons looked up, saw Grif watching his face through half-hooded eyes… Looking hungry and possessive, and- and-

And, under the weight of that gaze that spoke a million things that all boiled down to, _You’re mine. I want you. And, you’re MINE._ , Simmons actually felt emboldened rather than embarrassed.

Grif wanted him. He really wanted _him_. Messed up, fucked up **Simmons** , of all people… Grif, who couldn’t be bothered to give a damn unless something (Or someone, apparently.) fell under the heading of, “One of Mine”…

The redhead’s hands ran down… down Grif’s broad, solid shoulders, and down… to cling to his softer sides…

Fuck, Simmons was actually _shaking_.

Just slightly, but… He was just so goddamn overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the realization of-of… the full extent of these feelings that he had hidden. Hidden even from himself… And, the adrenaline dump from the dream… and memory… whatever the fuck it’d been…

_Oh, no. NO. Please, not now, not now. Let me have this- Just let me have-_

But, son of a bitch, he couldn’t help himself…

And, just like _that_. In the snap of a finger-

An instant.

A flash.

Dark, dark memories fighting to come to the forefront-

The Smell of Bourbon and Blood. BourbonAndBlood.

Getting lost… Getting so lost…

  
Richard started to stir.

To awake from his peaceful slumber.

Wrapped in the arms of divine, desperate denial…

Denial for the sake of survival…

  
But, then, like he knew how badly Simmons needed it, Grif’s lips touched his, again… _Finally_. After what felt like for-fucking- _ever_ … And, his deep, lazy kisses, the tickle of his dark hair that brushed and curtained against Simmons’ face… almost seeming to hide them away from the world… his quiet murmur of Simmons’ name… It all forcibly thrust the redhead back into the moment. And…

  
Richard subsided… Back to his beautiful, broken dreams.

Asleep.

Believing he was curled protectively around the one that **he** loved.

He was completely blissfully unaware of all else.

  
Grif sighed, sounding more content than anything else. Nose rubbing affectionately, and, perhaps, a bit teasingly against Simmons’. Possibly, remembering Simmons’ little “eskimo kiss” from earlier…

But, Simmons couldn’t help the urgent little growl that escaped him…

And-

  
God _dammit_ … Grif growled right back at him, and nipped his lower lip.

Simmons and that fuckin’ sexy little growl…

That sound that went straight to Grif’s dick. If he hadn’t been keeping his lower half a bit to the side of the sexy little Kissass, his poor, neglected prick (How many times was he gonna start getting hard in ONE motherfucking night before he got some pretty nerd ass?…) would, currently, be feelin’ a LOT happier. Rubbin’ all up on the Kissass, as nature intended…

If the little nerd wasn’t so frickin’ oblivious to how he effected other people, _HIM_ , in particular, Grif would _really_ think the son of a bitch did it on purpose…

  
Simmons was having a hell of a time, -An **impossible** time-, holding back all the sounds that kept coming out of him. Pants, and whimpers, and moans. He didn’t know what the hell was going on. And, oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK. The unbelievably suggestive way Grif had started to kiss him… Like as soon as that noise had come rumbling up from Simmons’ throat… -That growly sound that seemed to come outta nowhere, that only Grif had ever caused him to make-… Grif was turning his head just so… At just the right angle so his tongue could dip into, and lap rhythmically over and over into Simmons’ mouth. It was so- (Freaking mesmerizing, enthralling, evocative of other… other kinds of activities… But, shhh! Shut up about that, or Simmons might chicken out!)

It was so fucking _good_ \- It was giving Simmons all _kinds_ of ideas… It was like Grif was done with the tasting, and was unhurriedly, so leisurely, working at eating him all up. _Devouring_ him little by little…

And, FUCK. Simmons was getting so hard. If Grif looked down in-between them, he would totally see the outline of Simmons’ cock straining against his clothes…

Oh shit. Was Simmons _actually_ getting a little braver? Able to think the words without brain stuttering? The words he could now say aloud with ease… When bitching, anyway… As long as they didn’t involve… ya know… himself  & s-se-ex- Dammit! So close to depussifying, as Grif would probably call it.

Oh well. If Grif would simply move completely on top of him… Get his lazy ass in gear, already… (Although, Simmons was loving every single second of this.) He could feel… He could FEEL exactly how all this was affecting Simmons… feel for- for himself… Then, Simmons wouldn’t have to say anything, at all.

  
But, Grif was sorta wrapped up, unhurriedly, playing at the moment.

Memorizing, _absorbing_ , every sound, every shaky breath… The redhead was unbelievably responsive to every single kiss, and, even, the simplest of touches…

And, the trippiest thing was that, somehow, Grif was so _into that_ in a way that was totally beyond his normal, _Cool, less work for me_ , thought process.

The noises Simmons made… He was so… vocal.

Little pleased hums.

Quiet gasps.

Small, nearly inaudible, hungry _whimpers_.

And, those were just the sounds he made whenever they _kissed_. The sounds he made right into Grif’s mouth… It was fuckin’ hot as hell. And, he didn’t even seem to be aware of it.

Seriously, it was freaking intoxicating to be wanted so much.

To know that the person you wanted so goddamn bad, fucking desperately wanted you back…

Fuck…

Grif’s free hand played over the squirmy, lithe body below him. Running over his chest and belly. “Accidently”, pulling his shirt up just a bit. Just enough… So, he could teasingly slide his palm down Simmons’ side…

And, hook his thumb into and under the waistband of his maroon boxers while grabbing and pressing his hip down into the mattress. Even harder than before.

Simmons squeaked out, loudly, but, also, very breathlessly, “ _Grif_ !”

And, the Hawaiian’s lips curved slightly against Simmons’ ridiculously soft ones (The son of a bitch did love his honey chapstick...), as he clasped the slight curve of the redhead’s hip in the palm of one large hand… Thumb rubbing gentle circles into his hipbone… So in contrast to his tight, overtly possessive grasp…

_Finally_ , actually, touching that soft, yet, taunt creamy skin beneath the Kissass’ clothes…

Even if just.. if just there in that little hollow…

The second that Grif was more holding onto him rather than holding him down, Simmons’ entire lower body rolled up into his touch.

And, Grif couldn't resist.

One second he wasn’t doing it, and the next he was.

He slid his right hand into, and down, the Kissass’ boxers to cup and grasp ahold of a firm, yet, supple ass cheek, and give it a nice _squ- **ee** -ze_. He was, still, trying to resist simply moving his hand up to the front and gettin’ ahold of his nerd’s dick… but Jesus CHRIST, his ass was so fucking perf-

“ _Ohhh, fuck_ ,” Grif groaned, and Simmons moaned in near creepily perfect unison right into each other’s mouths.

They both froze, and moved slightly back, lips parting, to stare into each other’s eyes.

And, although, Simmons obviously hated it, his gaze dropped first.

The redhead laughed a little nervously, blushing nice n’ Red Team Red, as he turned his head away, and started to get incredibly fidgety.

But, Grif, being Grif, just snorted, and muttered, “Chill out, Kissass.”

And, after a little kneading that had Simmons groaning lowly, and holding tighter onto the Hawaiian’s waist, while trying to turn his head further into the pillow… -likely to attempt to hide his reactions-, Grif released his handful of so fuckin’ sweet nerd ass, pulled his hand out of his boxers-

  
And, was very abruptly touching Simmons’ cheek. So, so very gently, it brought a lump to the redhead’s throat. And, he didn’t even bother to think about how Grif’d basically just been giving him a deep tissue ass massage with that same hand…

  
Grif’s thumb was brushing over Simmons’ lips (Which, yes, he had done earlier that night, and luckily he’d done no more than that, cause, as he realized sometime later… That had not been- that was truly not _His_ Simmons…), down to his jaw, and he was turning Simmons’ face back to him. Kissing him, again.

And, to be honest, in that moment, it was perfect. Grif had needed to be distracted for a second, anyway. To sidetrack himself from that fuckin’ perfect round, little ass, or… well, fuck… Just layin’ it all out there?... He was afraid if he didn’t chill with that for a sec, his dick was gonna be dripping pre right through his _boxers_ , for Christ’s sake, and he just wasn’t gonna make it. And, fuck, man. He didn’t even know how the hell they’d gotten to here when the whole real reason he’d left the room in the first place was so they could kinda ‘compose’ themselves, ya know, pull their shit together, or whatever. So, they didn’t fuck on the first night they’d done anything. The first night that they’d even kissed- shit, that _Simmons_ had ever kissed anyone.

So, yeah, Grif didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but, holy HELL, he didn’t want it to stop…

He wanted him too motherfucking much. And, he’d wanted him for too motherfucking LONG.

  
Simmons, on the other hand, was busily thinking about how currently inefficient it was for the two of them to both be wearing boxers with the “courtesy button”, of sorts, that, yes, DID help keep surprise boners from just popping out like a jack-in-a-box in polite company-

_Buuut_ … as neither he, nor Grif, could ever be accused of being very “polite”, and they were, presently, only in _each other’s_ company, it would’ve been nice to, um, maybe, be wearing the kind of easy access open fly boxers that some people wore so they could more easily slip out their, uh,  dick to go to the bathroom, or… or better yet, to do other, more, uh, interesting, time-consuming things…

Like rub all up against each other while Simmons calculated how far they could even go before one of them, -likely him-, wussed out…

  
* _Internal What the FUCK is wrong with us Sigh_ *

Ya know, there are just some truisms in life. And, mother of frickin’ God, if there was one thing, in that exact moment, that _Grif_ , at least, absolutely believed to be true? That he knew for damn sure? It was that they were both thinking way too damn much. The freakin’ Kissass was wearing off on him!

So, he did what needed to be done.

And, a moment later, his hand was on Simmons’ chest. But, unfortunately, not underneath his shirt. He was hoping that the next time he messed with the redhead’s clothes, he’d be taking them off him…

His fingers rolled over the hard little nub of Simmons’ left nipple. Somehow, he’d _known_ they’d be hard even before he’d felt them rubbing up against him. Cause, yeah, he’d felt that a couple times that night when they’d been pressed up against each other.

This fucker was **so** goddamn sensitive…

The sharp gasp, and, then, almost rumbly purr that came out of Simmons’ throat was encouraging, so Grif lightly pinched… Earning a shaky sigh… _Hmmm_ … Not good enough of a reaction from someone as sensitive as Simmons…

Grif moved to his right one, which made him end up with his forearm across Simmons’ chest, and he was, incidentally, pretty much holding him down, again…

This whole, basically, low-key dominating, and desire to be dominated, thing between them? It, perhaps strangely, came very naturally to them.

So, maybe, it shouldn’t be that surprising that before Grif had really applied any real pressure… When he was still just hardly giving him more of a light tweak rather than a squeeze, or a slight pinch… Simmons immediately let out a wordless exclamation, followed instantly by a demand of, “ _Harder_ ”, causing Grif to grin against the Kissass’ lips… Maybe, just a _little_ evilly.

And, he thought, _Oh, alright. So, THAT was the one._

  
Simmons’ reaction was almost instantaneous. If Grif was gonna up the ante, well, son of a bitch, so was he!

It wasn’t that he thought this consciously… exactly (If he HAD, he, likely, woulda been a lot more bold for the sake of “winning”.). He was simply naturally competitive when it came to things he took a liking to.

His hands had mostly clung to Grif’s sides thus far, but all at once that wasn’t nearly enough.

And, he was entwining his arms around the larger, but shorter man. Hands trailing down his back, to his ass, to the hem of his shirt… Sneaking them underneath the fabric that separated them, and, then, smoothing his long fingers, feather-light, back up warm flesh rather than cotton. Actually, _moaning_ hungrily, and uncontrollably into Grif’s mouth, at the feel of his bare skin beneath his fingertips…

Grif pulled away from Simmons’ mouth with a hissed “ _Shit_ ”. But, then, he really couldn’t help, but huff out a half-laugh when, with a little grumble, Simmons’ chin cocked up to try to follow Grif’s mouth to wherever the hell it was going.

But, when Grif’s forehead dropped down to rest on his right shoulder, the redhead had to give up. And, although, Grif still roughly rolled and slightly pinched Simmons’ obviously most sensitive nipple (Cause, yep. Men could have those, too. Simmons was proof of that. Just had to be a little rougher.) between his fingertips, the increasingly rambunctious redhead still let out a single, more annoyed than amused, huff of his own at the loss of Grif’s lips against his.

Honestly, though, Grif just needed to catch his breath for a second. Pull it together. Remember that he was supposed to be taking it slow, because… this… this was Simmons. This wasn’t just anyone. This wasn’t just about getting off. This was _Simmons_ …

But, goddammit, it was hard to think straight with Simmons’ slightly chilly hands roaming over Grif’s, suddenly, too hot flesh.

Felt so fucking good, it made him freaking shiver. He didn’t think anyone had ever made him _shiver_ before. At least, definitely not from just running their hands over him.

He couldn’t help but fleetingly wonder…

HAD anyone ever touched him like this before?...

No. No. Simmons was different. He touched Grif like he was a fucking drug, and even the lightest touch got him frickin’ high as fuck.

  
Simmons was distracted from… from whatever had annoyed him…

Oh yeah! Grif wasting time _breathing_ when he could still be kissing him. Rude!...

Regardless, he was nearly _truly_ purring. Grif was- He WAS that warm. Mouthwateringly, incredibly _hot_ beneath his own cool touch.

And, Simmons wanted him so fucking bad. Everywhere their skin touched tingled, and tickled, and prickled, and ached… In the best of ways…

It was so goddamn overwhelming, with his hands inside Grif’s shirt, and pressed against his actual bare skin… that he couldn’t stop running his fingers and palms all over him. Wherever he could reach. Pressing down on that soft layer of pudge to feel the hard, solid muscle underneath…

Lucky bastard. Genetics, amiright? But, seriously, Simmons felt like the lucky one as he alternated between rough grabbing and grasping and light, barely there sliding up and down and... And, everything in-between. Listening to the cadence of Grif’s breath, and his urgent vs. quiet muttered curses.

Grif wasn’t as “vocal” as he would later tease Simmons about being (Although, God forbid Simmons tried to be quiet. To keep it down…), so Simmons had to really _investigate_ how precisely Grif liked to be touched. Other than the obvious.

He was playing down by Grif’s waistband… His hips, and lower back…

Still captivated by the sheer amount of _warmth_ that Grif gave off.

The heat in the Hawaiian’s skin that didn’t just elicit more hunger. More lust and desire. But, also, felt…

Familiar.

Like intense déjà vu.

It brought back flashes of the dream…

Of how incredibly hot Grif’s skin had been… Of how he’d touched his face…

And- ( _Oh no, not this, not this._ ) And, the memory… Flashes. Flashes. Of what had come before.

Before Grif was, suddenly, THERE… There to be with him through the unbearable, yet, still not truly understood, incomplete truths revealed… Half-remembered recollections. Revelations… that whispered and cried out for recognition and acknowledgement. For acceptance.

  
All at once, Grif felt Simmons trembling, trembling, trembling.

And, his fingers playful pinching eased, the weight of his arm, somehow, grew more protective and comforting, rather than dominating… Grif’s head turned to the side… his own surprisingly hardly chapped -Due to Simmons _nagging_ Grif into putting on his chapstick, too, whenever he did. (That was how Grif knew it was honey chapstick, or whatever. Still didn’t know where the fuck he got it from, though.)- lips softly brushing the redhead’s pale throat.

Trying to bring him back.

  
And, even that lightest of touches successfully, though momentarily, distracted Simmons from his currently undesired thoughts. Cause… he knew… he knew that Grif would-

  
Sure enough, to Simmons’ answering swift intake of breath, and choked out, “ _OhGod_ ”, Grif latched onto that sweet spot on Simmons’ neck. Biting, and licking, and sucking into his creamy skin.

And, listening to his little Kissass moan as he marked him, Grif muttered under his breath, “So, you ’missed’ me, huh?... _Hmmm_ … Maybe… I kinda missed you a little, too…”

An’ _dude_ , Grif was sorta impressed with himself for admitting that out loud. Without a joke, or a punch-line, to back it up. Even, if it was only in a half-ass kinda way…

He had to confess, as he ran his hand soothingly back down Simmons’ side, and nuzzled into the little blossoming spot he’d put on his neck, an’… just sorta chilled for a sec to see where the redhead was at in all this… he knew damn well that he, pretty obviously, wasn’t the best at _saying_ the sappy shit. Grif was fully aware of that… But, then, again, Simmons wasn’t so great at it, either.

After all, he’d had to still be half asleep to be able to say what he’d been thinking… feeling… To tell Grif that he’d missed him… Of course, as mentioned, Grif wasn’t one to talk. Hadn’t he just told the Kissass a handful of hours ago that he- Hadn’t he mumbled, “I love you” to Simmons for the first time while still half-asleep, and Simmons had thought he said, “Olive Juice”.

For fuck’s sake.

  
Simmons, for his part, was, honestly, too busy thinking about how MUCH he wanted to be with this man forever and fucking always to truly register his words as “impressive”.

His mind was such a maze, and, again, as soon as they weren’t actively, even if slowly, moving forward, he was getting deeper and deeper in… Lost, while all he wanted to be was with him.

To be Safe. To be Found.

But, the whisper of fear that sung through his veins… It was so prevalent. Consuming. Just overpowering in all ways.

So, so many thoughts ran rampant through the redhead’s mind… through his _heart_ …

_Oh God, please. Yes. Fuck, yes. I just want to be here with HIM. With Grif. Just Us. Just Us. Can’t I- can’t I have that? I just wanna forget all the- all the- the rest, right now. Just for a little- a little while… Is that so bad? I just, I… don’t want to remember the blood… I don’t wanna remember Richard’s shock, hispainhisAGONYhissobshisfuryhisRAGE. ThebloodThebloodTheblood. _

Simmons’ fingernails skated across Grif’s back. Switching from nearly tickling to digging hard into his flesh. Though, neatly trimmed, they were still long enough to scratch red lines across the tan.

_His twisting, twisting everything so he didn’t kill himself, kill me, kill US. Cause he promised me, promised him, promised himself, to keep me safe. Safe-Safe-Safe. No matter what… And, for fuck’s sake, Richard, Jimmy… Jimmy- Who I knew since I was five. Giggling over matching braids, and falling asleep curled in the hammock in his yard. Jimmy- Who accidently blew up his shed with me when we were seven cause of one of our secret science experiments gone wrong. (I STILL say it wasn’t my fault. Totally his.) Jimmy- Who crawled into the hospital bed with me when I was nine, and told me, “Don’t ever do that, again, Richie. Don’t leave me alone. You’re my best friend. Best friends are supposed to stick together, right?”… Jimmy- Who I told about you, and he already frickin’ **knew**. (Like he’d already  known YOU, somehow.) And, who didn’t just accept you, but goddamn **loved** you. -And, you could say age this, and age that… but, when the fuck were any of the three of us ever **really** kids?- And, I- and, I never, ever loved him in the same way that you did, that you DO, but he was as close of a brother to me as you are… He’s **family** , for fuck’s sake, and he always was. Always will be. He can’t be… He’s NOT… Please, fucking please… Not, again… I just want- I just want us to all, somehow, be okay... to be alright..._

He was, subconsciously, using the words... (Okay. Alright.) Trying so damn hard to ground himself within this moment. To find stability. To find peace. To escape the pain. The fear. (The truth?) The LIES! To be with- with his… with HIS loved one… To be with the one that HE loved… that he loved… that he…

And, he was a horrible person. A terrible person. A SELFISH person. To want this in the wake of… In the shadow of… of Richard’s misery, and very probable past and impending insanity…

But, oh, oh, fuck, he DID want him. Simmons wanted him so goddamn much. Grif. He wanted _Grif_. No one else. Only him. And, not just as an escape… But, maybe, as solace… as comfort… To be filled with love and desperate hunger for the _one HE loved_ , rather than filled with fear…

He… He wanted- He wanted- wanted so many things… To feel… To feel him… feel his- his hard, thick… _Oh Gooood_ … feel it against him, again… May- m-maybe _against_ his own c-cock this time… And… and, he wanted, he wanted him… wanted Grif… i-inside him, i-in- Oh, Jesus _FUCK_ … He wanted… to take him, and have him f-fill him up… Make him feel fucking _whole_ …

“Please, please, please…”

Without even realizing it, Simmons had voiced his pleas, breathily whispering the last of his lingering thoughts, right out loud.

  
Grif could’ve cum, right then and there.

And, with a groan, and a shudder, Grif was, finally, moving fully overtop him. His knee nudged Simmons’ thighs further apart…

And, mouth attaching back onto that spot on Simmons’ neck, he repositioned himself so he was completely in-between those long, slender legs (That was _really_ where most of Simmons’ height came from. His torso itself wasn’t necessarily that much longer than the Hawaiian man’s. Which was good for Grif in a situation like this.), while still holding himself up, and slightly off the already panting man below him.

As soon as Grif had moved fully to hovering completely overtop him, Simmons was trying to hook his legs up around Grif’s hips, to buck up into him. To pull him all the way down on top of him.

_Jesus_. He was like a fuckin’ little wildcat.

Grif was, literally, seconds from lowering himself down onto him. Seconds from feeling his cock against his…

When he realized that the tremor that was running through Simmons’ body, that could’ve been mistaken for simple excitement or nerves by someone who knew Simmons’ neurotic ways, but was less in-tuned to _him_ as a person, was becoming more and more pronounced against him.

Fuck. The Kissass had actually started to really _vibrate_. And, not in a good way.

Like, bad. Really bad.

And, it seemed like his mind was going a million miles a minute…

And, then, Donut’s words from earlier picked the worst possible time to pop up into Grif’s head.

_“ -on your guys’ first date? Probably, if I know anything about Sims, and his past... his first date, ever! He could hate you in the morning, you know!...”_

Fuck. _Fuck !_

Of all fucking times to hear the Rookie’s voice. He was even nagging him in his goddamn head, now!

  
And, Grif found himself pulling just slightly more up. Holding away some… Basically, trying to keep his dick from touching this mother fucking delicious son of a bitch until he could make sure everything was cool. Cause… fuck, man. Once his cock brushed up against the Kissass’? With Simmons so obviously _wanting_ it? All bets were off…

Grif was so _frustrated_ with himself. Why did he have to give so many fucks, _allll_ the fucks, about this? About him? Why couldn’t he just fuck him, and figure it out in the morning? Like a **normal** dickhead.

But, ya know. Goddamn “feelings” n’ shit.

He couldn’t just think with his dick. Not that it was anybody’s goddamn business, or anything, but… He, uh, mighta had some very long-term plans (Which was a trip, he knew. But, fuck. It was _Simmons_.) involving this sexy little nerd that he couldn’t let anyone fuck up. And, yes, “anyone” apparently included his currently getting very cranky cock.

And, oh-ho-ho, if anyone else even thought about putting their hands on his Kissass, he might just have to stab them in the motherfucking eye. He was so fuckin’ serious. He wouldn’t even feel bad about it.

Simmons was HIS. And, _only_ his.

…Uh… He really didn’t know exactly why he’d thought of that at the moment, but, whelp, there it fuckin’ was.

Shit. He was gonna cum like fuckin’ Ol’ Faithful once he actually got his dick inside him.

For now, though, he had to make sure he was alright.

But, man, Simmons was NOT making it easy on him.

“ _Grif_ ,” Simmons whined, literally, using his tight hold on him to pull himself mostly up off the bed. -He had more upper body strength than you’d think. Still had more of a slim runners or swimmers build at best, but, uh, yeah, Grif was _totally_ into it…- He was halfway _hanging_ off Grif, now. Like he was trying to imitate the red panda wrapped around Grif’s belly on his t-shirt. It was either hilarious or cute as fuck.

Or, maybe not. Maybe, it was, erm, definitely, more sexy than cute… With how Simmons’ hands were grasping onto Grif’s bare shoulders underneath his shirt. His ankles crossed and hooked around Grif’s lower waist… Trying to pull Grif down while pulling himself up… And, _whining_ , whining like an adorable little bitch cause Grif was so much stronger than him that he apparently couldn’t manhandle him as much as he seemed to want to…

“C- C’mon…,” Simmons stammered pretty badly, even for him, “I-I want… I w-want…”

Taking a deep, but slightly shaky breath, Grif pulled up some more to look down at the flushed, but trembling man below him, taking a wrapped around him Simmons up with him. (He kinda really liked that. He could carry this Kissass around, an’ have him draped over him all fuckin’ night, every night.) Wrapping the arm that wasn’t bracing himself tight around Simmons' slim waist…

And, oh goddammit... Shit! He hadn’t really meant to…

But, oh my fucking God. Suddenly, he could really, totally _feel_ him, right against his belly… Feel how fucking _hard_ he was. The boxers were so tight against his strained cock, Grif couldn’t believe the son of a bitch hadn’t popped a button. It only made Grif _harder_. He wanted him so mother fucking **bad**. And, fuck! He was pressed against that sweet little ass, again… Instinctually, even with their clothes on, pressing hard right into and in-between those firm little cheeks… Probably, about to leave a nice wet spot on both their boxers, and fuuuccckkk…

If his dick were its own person, it would shoot him right in the head for even _daring_ to think of anything, but burying himself over and over into his tight heat…

Or, maybe… Maybe…

Just grinding down into him… Grinding against and with him…

He didn’t know how the fuck he could keep to only that, but…

Once again, it wasn’t like he was very prepared, regardless.

And, maybe, maybe, he could help, ya know, chill him out, and, uh… comfort him with his cock?

That was a-a thing… Right?

Grif tried to kiss him, again, but his lips could only hardly brush across Simmons’, as the redhead’s teeth were, almost, _chattering_ , for Christ’s sake. Grif wasn’t sure what you called that. Where they weren’t chattering exactly, but almost…

What in the fuck had Simmons been dreaming about when he’d come back into the room? He’d looked so goddamn _relaxed_ before Grif’d woke him up.

Literally, just with the lightest of touches…

(But, the blanket, and the sheet, kicked off the bed… The room so dark…)

Oh, fuck. He had to get him to chill out. This really wasn’t just nerves or excitement. No matter how much Simmons wanted this- And, it was obvious, he fuckin’ WANTED it- Something was fucking with him really bad… Grif couldn’t just _ignore_ that… This was _Simmons_. He…

He meant something to him, alright.

He forced out, although, son of a bitch, he didn’t want to, and he sounded more than a little unhappy with the words coming out of his mouth…

He _made_ himself say… something, “Simmons, wait. I don’t… Man, I don’t know… I mean-… Fuck…”

What he’d thought was: _Simmons, wait. I don’t… Man, I don’t know what’s up with you, right now. Are you cool? I mean… you- you know what I mean... Fuck, I want you so much… Why’s my life have to be so goddamn unfair? Lame._

The truth was that he wasn’t sure how to simply say exactly what he was trying to say, AND not end up sounding like a whiny little selfish bitch. And, it was kinda hard to concentrate on forming coherent audible sentences at the moment, anyway, ya know, with all the blood filling his head that didn’t contain a brain.

Before he could attempt to salvage whatever that… _mess_ had been that had come out of his mouth, Grif saw Simmons’ pretty red brows arch, then, furrow in confusion.

Then, the grimace of pain. As if he’d been struck. His eyes sliding away, and flinching, momentarily, shut. Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard, audible swallow…

That look that spoke volumes on the agony of rejection.

But, the redhead didn’t say a word.

  
Simmons’ mind had screeched to a halt. He’d fucked it up. He’d fucked it up! He gotten too lost in his head, and ruined everything.

Or, maybe… Maybe, when it really came down to it… Grif didn’t _really_ want **him** , at all… Sure, his dick was h-hard against his ass, but- but that didn’t mean he actually wanted Richie -oops-, “Dick” Simmons, now did it?

He actually felt even his dick soften in despair. Sounded dumb, but it didn’t matter. It was what it was.

He had to get _out_ of here. 

  
Grif felt how Simmons had frozen, and, then, how he just _totally_ lost his hard-on. Which was so not the _intent_. Grif was just trying to check-in with the dude, not have him lose his frickin’ boner!

Then, with no warning, the redhead completely released him.

As Grif had been running his hand comfortingly up and down Simmons’ side at the moment, -rather than just holding him tightly to him-, when Simmons let go, he fell back the few inches… back onto the mattress.

He, still, didn’t make a single sound. Not even a little “oof” like you’d expect.

His arms were still under Grif’s shirt, and Grif still had his arm around him…

But, even with his arm still wrapped securely around, and, now, underneath him, Simmons tried to pull away. To untangle his limbs completely from around, or anywhere near Grif. He yanked his arms out from Grif’s shirt… Tried to turn… Evidently, wanting to roll right off the bed, and onto the hard ground below if he had to…

Anything to escape…

Grif didn’t let him, though. He just tightened his hold. Kept a good grip on him.

“No, Baby, don’t-,” he murmured to him.

When Simmons, still so strangely silent, realized he wasn’t going to get to simply bail out of the situation, his face just went _blank_. Even, his eyes, almost, seemed to dim.

And, they were getting that distant look that Grif hated to see.

Simmons’ arms curled protectively around his own chest…

He wasn’t even bothering to try to pull away, anymore. Simply sinking back into the mattress…

“S-Simmons, c’mon…” Grif’s voice picked a great time to crack a little. But, man, he felt bad. Seeing that look on Simmons’ face…

……

Finally, finally, the redhead spoke.

He didn’t spit out angry words, or shove furiously at him.

Grif would’ve totally preferred that. That Simmons he knew how to deal with.

Instead…

“You don’t want me… Not me…” It was said dully, quietly. With none of the usual Simmons brand of fanfare.

As, though, although painful, it was simply something to be expected.

And, look… Grif didn’t _mean_ to be an insensitive prick… He really didn’t! But, he couldn’t  help but scoff aloud at the very _idea_ … Shit. Simmons had to have been able to feel Grif’s dick against him more than once during all this. And, not just at that particular moment, -Hey! Cut him some fuckin’ slack! It, apparently, took a little longer for the messages between his dick and his brain, or reverse that, to get to each other-, but what about when Simmons’d been in his lap earlier… Well, there’d been no hiding it, then, either…

And the real truth was… The real reason that Simmons thinking he didn’t “want” him was so freaking retarded was that he’d never actually, genuinely wanted _anyone_ as bad, or as much, or in the WAY he wanted this pretty little nerd-

HIS little nerd…

He pulled his arm out from underneath him. Ran his hand up Simmons’ slender, still slightly trembling body.

And, his fingers tangled back into that fucking gorgeous long red hair…

He gave a sharp, painful little yank.

Simmons’ lips parted, and Grif leaned down, caught his quiet gasp on his tongue.

When Simmons’ eyes cleared, and on a shaky exhale, slipped shut, Grif dipped inside his mouth to taste him, again… And, slowly, almost seemingly lazily, he traced his perfect cupid’s bow lips with tip of his tongue…

No. The problem wasn’t that Grif didn’t want him. It was that he wanted him TOO damn much. And, let’s be real. Anyone with a window into Grif’s mind would know, by now, that he wanted him for fucking always.

When Simmons sighed lowly, still trembly, and not really kissing him back, not like he had before… So much quieter… Hands pressing against his chest... Touching him, again... But, only lightly, now. Uncertainly... Grif knew he HAD to say something. It wasn’t easy, but he did the best he could. Which, even that, should be pretty impressive. “…Not want you? That’s such _bullshit_. Come on, Simmons, I thought you were supposed to be smart. Where the hell you been all night?... It’s Just Us… No one else is here. Don’t gotta… play fucking games… But… shit, man, sometimes, you started, like, _shaking_. Real bad… I don’t wanna rush you, and, ya know…”

Have you end up hating me. Have you not want anything to do with me. Have you freak out, afterward, and not wanna be WITH with me…

“And, man, if we _really_ get going, I don’t know if I can just…”

Grif looked down into those big, fucking still so sorrowful-looking deep green eyes. It made him feel like absolute shit.

And, he thought so, so many things.

He thought:

_Look, bitch. I’ve wanted you for too long to be able to just half-ass this. I wanna fuckin’ worship the hell outta your sexy ass for freaking ever… Suck you off, put your legs up on my shoulders, and just eat your sweet ass out for hours… See how many times I can get you off in one night… I wanna fuck into you ‘til you, literally, pass the hell out, screaming on my dick… -Which sounds exhausting, I know, but, fuck, I dunno-… But, it’s not even just that… I wanna, **know** you’re mine. All fuckin’ mine,  only mine. I want that shit, too, cause I’m fuckin’ greedy n’ jealous… If I ever think someone else touched you, I might just have ta’ ‘accidentally’ make them disappear… Cause you’re fuckin’ MINE, bitch, and… And, I think maybe I wanna, like, I don’t know… do some kinda lovey crap, too, or… some… something?… Which, uh, yeah, that’s-that’s new to me so… I’m a little lost here?... _

_And-_

_Mother fuck…Simmons... I can’t… But, I can’t wake up, and have you be… gone… Fuck **that**._

He thought all that. The thoughts were so clear, so strong, that years later he would still be able to remember them, all on his own, word for word.

But, as had happened so often with Simmons, he found himself, in that moment, struggling to put his thoughts, his feelings that he had so much of inside, and, yet, sucked at ever actually verbalizing, into words. And, rather than saying what Simmons should hear, what he fucking needed to hear (Even, if this time Grif’s words would’ve likely turned him the reddest shade of Red Team Red, yet.), Grif said some half-ass, pussified version that didn’t truly get across the goddamn EXTREME extent of what this Kissass meant to him.

Cause Grif was a hell of a _great_ communicator, man. No shit.

Finally, he managed to kinda awkwardly get out, “…Look, I… fuck… I don’t know how to… I just, uh… You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?…”

Simmons just stared up at him. He looked so **sad** …

Ohhh, son of a bitch. Those eyes. Bright with unshed tears.

Fuck. They got to him.

“Goddammit… al-alright… I just… want… you… No, I mean, I _really_ want…  I don’t wanna fuck it up… And, Baby, you’re shaking, again.”

Simmons looked startled, at that. As though he hadn’t even noticed.

“It seemed like…,” Simmons, finally, spoke, again. So softly that Grif pressed his tan cheek down against his pale one, so the redhead was whispering right into his ear. It, probably, looked fucking adorable, but neither of them were thinking about that at the moment, “…you made me think you didn’t… you don’t wanna be … with me…”

Grif found himself frowning, all awkwardness forgotten. That was the complete opposite of what was going on.

Goddammit! He could NOT have Simmons thinking that dumbass shit.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Grif ground out harshly, reaching down, and roughly squeezing the slight curve of Simmons’ hip. Pressing his still half-hard, despite its terrible neglect, cock into him… Well, not **into** into him, but, uh, you know, against his unfortunately boxer-clad ass… 

  
Simmons unconsciously tried to roll up into Grif. To rock up into him. But, Grif’s hand on his hip pinned him down to the mattress.

And, the breath caught in the redhead’s throat. The feeling of being overpowered (But, by someone that deep down you knew wouldn’t hurt you.) was _overwhelming_ …

  
And, Grif continued, but in a softer tone this time, as he moved to nip along under Simmons’ chin, alternating between sharp and gentle little nips that got the redhead all ‘vocal’, again, “Don’t know if you’re ready for all the things I wanna do… And, yes… * _Snort_ *…  with _you_ … I just… don’t… want you freaking out on me-”

Grif saw, outta the corner of his eye, how Simmons, whose breath had sped up, and body had started to squirm, again, under his touch and teeth and words… suddenly, began to scowl at that last bit. And, dammit, he couldn’t help but smile at the little Kissass, and press a lil’ peck on the tip of his cute little nose before continuing on.

“…You just… we just, ya know… like, even kissed, or whatever, for the first time a couple hours ago, dude…,” Grif reminded him, gently brushing his lips against the light spray of pale, hardly noticeable freckles over the bridge of his nose. They were so fuckin’ cute. Grif liked ‘em…, “You hadn’t even done _that_ before…”

“……”

At Simmons’ lack of a response, Grif stopped mid-kiss, and huffed in sudden and serious irritation. And, oh great! Now, that he was getting all jealous and pissed, his dick was just _done_. It was like ‘ _Fight your own battles, dude. If we’re not fuckin’, I’m out._ ’

Mother fuck. Thanks, Kissass. Twinning over softening cocks had to be the _worst_ kinda twinning.

Grif pulled up, and narrowed his dark blue eyes suspiciously down at Simmons before the other man even had a chance to truly register the sudden change in his mood, “ _Right_ ? Simmons? It seemed like- ‘Quick study’, my ass! I _knew_ you were too damn good at this! Who the _fuck_ else kissed you, goddammit?!”

“W-What?,” Simmons looked very startled, then, incredibly _embarrassed_. It brought his bitchy side out full-force, “No one! No one kissed _me_ … Shut up! It’s none of your goddamn business-”

Grif was so annoyed, and filled with an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, -way beyond any he’d ever even imagined being able to feel. It was fuckin’ weird, man-, that he didn’t exactly really catch Simmons’ emphasis on the word ‘ _me_ ’. Other than to, perhaps, fleetingly think that this son of a bitch was WAY too f’n insecure for someone so good-looking. Whether, if it was good-looking in a fuckin’ ‘pretty’ as fuck “girly” way, or not…

Although, was there even a “manly” kinda pretty? I mean, you could say a man was pretty, and that he could be manly. But, would you ever call anyone “manly pretty”? Maybe?

Not Simmons, though. He was androgynous pretty at best. At first glance he looked like a flat as fuck naturally pretty-ass, -Wow. That bitch doesn’t even need makeup n’ shit-, chick.

Whatever. Grif knew he was probably a huge sexist asshole… It was the way he was raised, man! Island people (And, circus people.) where very… set in their ways… Fuck, man, he just didn’t fuckin’ know...

Regardless of trying to distract himself so he didn’t throw a Simmons-style bitch fit, Grif was still feeling so pissy that he had to inform Simmons in an absolute no-nonsense, _you better watch it, dumbass_ tone, “None of _my_ goddamn business? Asshole, now, **that’s** where you’re wrong. It’s nobody’s _**but** MY_. Goddamn. Business-”

Simmons looked kinda startled. Almost, _almost_ , for just a split second… Intimidated?…

Whoa.

But, then, he was glaring, and peevishly complaining, “I don’t understand y- FUCK! **Stop** trying to embarrass me, you unbelievable prick! You tease me if I haven’t done this stuff, but, then, you get pissed if you think I have- You don’t make any fucking sense!”

Simmons scowled up at him, and… and, as dumb as this sounds? Simmons being all bitchy actually chilled Grif out. It was simply so… everyday normal, ya know?

“ _Hmmm_ … What can I say Simmons?,” A quirk of his lips, and Grif kissed the almost fuming redhead. Cautiously. Softly. You’d think it was the first time… Then, he told him, very briefly, like it just summed it all up, “I’m a complex kinda dude.”

“More like a dumbass _asshole_ kinda dude,” Simmons snootily informed him. Though, he seemed only the tiniest bit irritated, now. As if, Grif’s gentle kiss had placated him. Which, honestly, it really had.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Maybe, that, too…,” Grif murmured in a forced bored tone…

But, then, holy fucking God, he just nervously word-vomited his thoughts all OVER the place, because… because… it, it was Just Them… No AssholeS, er, OtherSimmons sightings for a while, now, and everyone else on the team was doing their own thing, and cause… cause once he got going, his control over his blabber mouth was shaky at best. “Look, I just don’t wanna screw around straight outta you waking up from what’s starting to seem like was a fucked up dream… Sleeping with someone when you feel bad, it… it doesn’t… doesn’t make you feel better, ya know. I mean, yeah, maybe, in the moment but, then… Fuck that. I don’t want that shit for us.”

“You’re not just… ‘someone’, dipshit…” Simmons mumbled a little weakly.

“That’s my point, bitch. It’s… different with… you know… whatever… I was, uh… thinking we could…”

Grif was kinda tripping out on the whole idea that he’d never done any of this in the “right” order. But, rather, fucking first, and, _then_ , hooking up. Leaving you with that sorta sick feeling after you’d been with someone. That feeling that this could totally have been a one-time kinda deal for them, and you don’t have a fucking clue.

He was NOT gonna go through that shit with Simmons. Hell no. And, knowing Simmons, he’d probably have a nervous breakdown, and decide Grif didn’t give a fuck about him ten seconds into the afterglow…

So, fuck. Call it lame, but the reason they weren’t going at it, right then? Sure, it was cause of Simmons’ not being in a good head space for it. But, it was, also… hell, Grif would just rather have shit clear, beforehand. Do it right. Have the Kissass well-aware of who the fuck he belonged to before things got… fuckin’ heavy.

Yeah, so no big deal. Just, uhhh, had to… do this shit right this time…

Although, he guessed that meant he just hadn’t done it “right”, or “correctly”, or whatever the hell, with Kira, since he sure as fuck hadn’t been interested in any of that with the hookups he’d had after Kira left.

He opened his mouth to say… what? He had no clue how to… what to… Wow, he _sucked_ at this. What was he supposed to say? _So, dude. Since everyone thinks we’re actually **married** , or some shit, anyway, uh… Fuck it, right? Wanna be, like, ya know, be, um… together, I guess? Or, whatever the fuck?_

He shut his mouth. He could NOT say it like that. Simmons was too damn sensitive. And, not just in the awesome sex way, either-

“Grif? Why are you just staring at me?!,” Simmons shifted uncertainly under him, starting to sound a little shrill, “You’re- You’re making me so freaking uncomfortable, you idiot!... What- What’re you thinking about? You were saying you thought we could… we could… what?”

And, on one hand, Grif couldn’t believe his damn self, but on the other… well, hell… he was who he was…

So, although, he hadn’t planned on saying it, he simply couldn’t bring himself to get all vulnerable an’ crap, and put what he really wanted to ask into words, so-

Grif blurted out, “I was thinkin’ we could eat. You hungry?”

“E-eat? What the- What the fuck-?” Simmons looked quite bewildered by the turn of events. Although, God knows why. This was GRIF, after all.

“Yeah, EAT. You never eat enough, dude-”

“Well, _someone_ around here eats enough for BOTH of us,” Simmons retorted indignantly.

But, Grif just shook his head, sadly, “ Yeah, man, I know. It’s a REAL mother fuckin’ problem. But, we aren’t talkin’ about Donut’s bubblebutt, right now-” 

  
A nice little offended squawk from a jealous redhead. He did NOT want Grif looking at other people’s asses! 

  
Seeing that Simmons was about to throw one of his signature squeaky, squawky fits, Grif told him in a voice laden with temptation, “Baby, I got you more peanut butter and-”

A girly-ass _squeal_ , for Christ’s sake, burst out of the Kissass. Son of a bitch didn’t even seem to realize he’d done it.

Grif couldn’t- he just didn’t know how to handle this. How was he supposed to not laugh his ass off? This mother fucker was nutty as _balls_ when they were alone. It was freaking highly entertaining.

“Get off me! Get off me, and feed me, asshole!,” Simmons demanded, slapping at his chest.

Grif thought of saying, _I could feed you my dick_. (He didn’t know what the fuck it was about Simmons, but he just wanted ta’ talk _dirty_ to him.) But… then, he thought of Simmons’ penchant for biting, -Hell, he’d got him doing it now, too!-, and he decided against it. Maybe not the best wording to use with a bitey lil’ fucker like his Kissass.

So, he just gave him another kiss, -just a small one-, that, even distracted, Simmons, now, immediately returned, and sat up, moving to the side of the bunk closest to the basket.

“I KNEW I smelled peanut butter,” Simmons sat up, as well, actually rubbing his hands together gleefully. It looked as fricking ridiculous as it sounded.

Grif scoffed, “Dude, and here I thought **I** was the one that got you all excited.”

Completely deadpan, Simmons assured him, “Nah, musta been the peanut butter.”

Grif shook his head at him, “Bitch.”

They grinned at each other.

And, really, what can be said? They’d always had strange ways of showing and verbalizing their affection.

Grif leaned over to the bunkside drawer, and grabbed ahold of the basket-

“*Snort* Love the bow, Grif.”

“Dude, don’t _even_ start,” Grif warned.

And, Simmons simply chuckled quietly to himself as he watched Grif dig into the Little Red Riding Hood basket.

Suddenly, though (And, unfortunately.), Grif thought of something, and he paused in his pawing through the stuff he’d brought.

He thought of something that he suspected that, if Simmons had been awake for it, could’ve accounted for at least some of why Simmons had gotten all tripped out during the relatively short time Grif had been out of the room.

Sill looking down into the basket, Grif off-handedly asked, “Hey, Simmons… Did you turn down the lights while I was gone?”

Simmons’ sharp intake of breath caused Grif to look up at him in mild alarm. It was fucking frightening how quickly Simmons’ mood could turn dark.

Grif wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? Fuck! Why couldn’t he ever keep his mouth sh-

“What the fuck- NO! I wouldn’t do that! I would _never_ do that!,” Simmons was vehemently insisting, before he seemed to be able to even attempt to silence himself. His face was getting red, but not in the way Grif liked, “… It- It WAS getting darker, wasn’t it? _Wasn’t it_ ? But, I-I DIDN’T-”

“Yeah, that’s cool. Lights must be acting up. I don’t care either way… Look, Baby,” Grif pulled out, and held up a package, both for Simmons to see, and also, to distract him from his extremely over-blown distress, “See how good I am to you? I even got you your disgusting little poison berries.”

  
Simmons just looked at him. Not impressed. But… he did feel calmer. Well, at least, he felt more annoyed than freaked out.

“They are NOT- You know what?,” the redhead blew out an aggravated breath, and snatched the packet of dried cranberries out of Grif’s hand, secretly so relieved that Grif had, obviously purposefully, given him something else to focus on, and bitch about. Even, at his own expense. The dumbass was kinda so goddamn wonderful in his way…, “Fuck this. I’m _sooo_ sick of your  crap. You **have** to try them, now… Grif, don’t give me that look! What if your face got stuck like that?”

“ _Lame_ ,” Grif, somehow, twisted his face into a look of even deeper disgust, “Nobody says that shit anymore, **nerd**.”

“Shut up, asshole. Look, I’ll eat some… _Mmmm_ , sOOO good. Yum, yum… Fuck, these ones really ARE good. Now, just try them, already!,” Simmons demanded, “You _have_ to eat something healthy, _sometimes_.”

Grif raised an eyebrow at him, “Do I, though, Simmons? Do I really? What’s with you, and these nasty little poison berries, anyway, man? You tryin’ ta’ kill me?”

“NO! And, for the LAST fucking time, they’re NOT poison- I JUST ate some, you idiot! Uhhh, fuck…,” Simmons rapidly changed tactics, from bossy to whiny. He really WAS tricky, “ _Griiif_ … I’m just trying to _show_ you that healthy stuff can taste good, too, sometimes! If you’ll just quit being such a fucking PUSSY, and, at least, _try_ them, already…” 

  
Like gateway drugs, right? Simmons and his secret master plan to corrupt Grif with his hippy, dippy rabbit food. Oh, Grif was _sooo_ onto this little nerd. But, he just very nicely said…

“Fuck you, dude! I just ate your _oatmeal_ **this** morning, dammit! So I should totally be off the hook. Already had my fill of ‘healthy’ crap for the week, _Simmons_. Or month. Or y-”

“No, Grif! You know that doesn’t count-”

“Fuck it doesn’t, bitch!,” Grif cried out, affronted that Simmons would DARE to imply that he would eat healthy-shit for no hook-up in return.

“-when you put THAT much brown su- Don’t you **even** say it! Don’t, you open your- Shut your big, fat mouth, dammit! _Fine_!- _Red_ sugar - so fucking dumb-, When you put that much sugar into the damn bowl… and OREOS, for Christ’s sake! Let’s not forget about the **Oreos**! You just turned it into junk food, _Grif_. It’s like you can’t say, ‘Look how healthy I am! I ate a couple a’ bananas for breakfast.’ But, you _actually_ deep-fried them, dusted them with goddamn powdered sugar, and drizzled chocolate and caramel _all over them_ , and, then, piled mountains of whip cream, and chocolate chips on top-”

“ _Oh, my fucking God_ ,” Grif moaned. He was so close to giving up, and just body-slamming the son of a bitch down onto the bed. Such a goddamn _tease_. If he wasn’t honestly so innocent and oblivious, Grif would’ve taken that whole porno recipe as a cue, and he’d be back on top of him, and sucking him off, right then and there. Maybe, showing him a little trick or two. Taking him deep, all the way down his throa- Holy hell. He didn’t know how he’d ever survive this… Instead of doing all the things he wanted to do to him –And, there were SO many things he wanted to do to him. To do _with_ him…-, he just forced himself to sound more snarky, and whiny. Very ‘Simmonsy’, in other words. “Simmons, I have no frickin’ clue what bananas have to do with any-fucking-thing, but don’t mess with me like that! That sounds _amazing_. If we get bananas you freaking **have** to make me that shit…” He paused for a moment, and couldn’t help but muse, “Huh… And, no wonder the oatmeal didn’t taste too bad if it was ‘junk food’-,”.

“… Wait… Really? It didn’t- It wasn’t too bad? You actually kinda… liked it? I mean, you DID eat it, but…,” Simmons seemed to forget all else. And, oh, he sounded SO _hopeful_ , “You weren’t just doing it to shut me up? Cause, uh, honestly? There’s a lot of different, more unusual, like, not so everyday kinda things, I’ve been wanting to try out, but I wasn’t sure if you’d even bother to try them with me…”

Okay. Fuck it. _Nobody_ could be this oblivious.

How did they go from almost actually fucking to all this?

Grif smiled sardonically at him, and his mouth just went ahead, and said whatever the fuck it wanted to say, “Simmons, look, dude, unless you’re talkin’ about different sex positions, I dunno… Are you? Cause I’m down for it, -bet you’re super flexible, and you’re so light, I could move you into all different kinds of-,” Grif paid no attention to Simmons' little squeak that was almost immediately followed by an offended huff, “…Anyway, so, yeah, sounds doable… long as you remember who’s… ya know…”

Who’s the boss when it comes to this stuff, Baby, Grif thought, as he smirked at him.

Simmons just sputtered wordlessly.

“Oh, Simmons, look at you,” Grif chided, teasingly. It was _way_ too fun, and easy, to get this dude going, “Blushing,  again. And, _speechless_ , too. That’s not like you, at all-”

“G-Grif! Why would I be talking about different p-posi- Oh God. When we haven’t even, uh, and, um- I’ve _ALWAYS_ been very flexible, _thankyouverymuch_ , **asshole** … b-but… I’m not _that_ light! Maybe, _you’re_ just THAT goddamn strong! You ever think of that, dumbass?!” Simmons tilted his chin up defiantly. Despite his embarrassment, he seemed to think he’d made a GREAT point.

Grif, on the other hand, looked a little confused, “Uhh… Thhhanks? Was that supposed to offend me, or some shit? Cause if that’s what you were going for… man, I’m not sure you know how that works… But, whatever. Let’s go back to that whole ‘flexible’ thing. I wanna hear more about **_that_**.”

Grif wiggled his eyebrows playfully, and Simmons turned his typical patriotic shade.

“Uhm- I-I…,” the redhead started to stammer... but, then, it seemed to click, “Wait! You piece a shit! I know what you’re doing, asshole! You’re trying to distract me so I forget about the cranberries. Well, fuck that. Try them, right NOW. You have to for being such a fucking perv.”

Hmph. Well, hell, could you blame him? Teasing the nerd would **always** be preferable to sucking down _health food_. And, he thought it should be very clear by this point what he’d rather be sucking down…

Grif sighed. Dammit, the nerd knew him too well, “Fuck, you’re just gonna keep bitching, aren’t you? *Sigh* _Alright_ , already. Don’t know why the hell you give a fuck about it-”

  
"Because I don’t want you to die, you dumb shit!,” Simmons burst out before he could think to censor himself, “You can’t live solely off the crap you eat!”

A moment of silence.

Then, Grif smiled a little at him, “Ah, Baby. It’s nice to know you’d give a fuck if I died.”

Simmons just grumbled at him, wouldn’t meet his eyes, and tried to hand the package of dried cranberries to him.

“No, no, no, no. I SAID I’d try them, _buuut_ you didn’t let me finish.”

Of course, Grif just HAD to have an ulterior motive. Cause… well, cause he was Grif. If he was gonna do something, he always expected a return.

“ _Ohhh_ , there’s a catch. Of. Fucking. Course. Why am I not surprised,” Simmons sneered, “Lemme guess. You want me to go get the chocolate syrup, so you can cover- No. Just _drown_ them in it- Don’t- Why are you looking at me like that?!” 

  
“Like what?,” Grif asked, perhaps, eyeing him a bit predatorily, “You got me all wrong, dude. I wouldn’t waste fucking delicious chocolate syrup on _poison berries_. I’d rather save that, for pouring all over any annoying **nerds** nagging my ass… That oughta shut ‘em up… Did you just swallow your tongue?...”

“N-, uh- No! That, um, it, uh… just s-sounds mess-messy,” Simmons stuttered, shifting about a bit nervously. Shyly, even.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Grif nodded, agreeably, sounding very chill. But, there just _may_ have been a mischievous glint in his eyes…, “But, that’d be part of the fun. Now, do you wanna know what you have to do to get me to eat that nasty crap, or what?”

Scowly Simmons face appeared completely outta nowhere, as it was wont to do.

“It’s _not_ nasty, you picky pig!,” Simmons squealed at him in very obviously genuine annoyance.

But, Grif ignored his habitual bitchiness, and told him very succinctly, “You just gotta sit on my lap, and feed ‘em to me… Come on, Baby. That’s so _easy_.”

“…Grif,” Simmons squinted his eyes at him, although he was getting a little pink, or ‘lightish-red’, and unconsciously starting to bite at his pretty lips, “If you wanna, um, make out some more, or play g-grab a-ass, or whatever, you don’t have to come up with some elaborate… okay, not really ‘elaborate’, per say, but some kinda ‘scheme’…”

Oh _really_? I don’t, huh?, Grif thought, thinking of this whole ‘sleepover’ deal (scheme).

That a fact, Simmons? Is. That. A. Fact?

“Just shut up, and get over here,” Grif grumbled, as he grabbed Simmons, and pulled him onto his lap.

He may have kinda manhandled him in the process (Man, it was fuckin’ awesome to be stronger than the Kissass.), and he almost got a sharp elbow to the eye for his trouble from one easily excitable little nerd.

The son of a bitch, chuckling evilly, even gave Grif a couple of sharp little nips wherever he could reach, -Grif’s arms, and throat, and even once on the back of his _hand_ , for fuck’s sake-, just to be a brat, and prolong the whole thing.  
  
Fucker could be _feral_. But, secretly? Grif **loved** it.

There was a very strong possibility that they were _both_ nuts.

Finally, he had the redhead back where he wanted him. Well, perhaps, not exactly ‘back’. As he wasn’t in the same position as before.

This time Simmons was sitting _across_ his lap, with an arm looped around his neck to help steady himself. Cause Grif was sorta afraid that if Simmons was sitting on his lap in the same way he’d been before, with those long legs wrapped around his waist, that sweet firm little ass right on top of his dick, again… Oh, fuck…

Give him a break. He wasn’t a saint! It wasn’t _his_ fault the squeaky little Kissass was so fucking hot outta his armor!

So… Yeah… if Simmons was wrapped around him like that, right at that moment… he was sure he’d start grinding up into the redhead in no time flat.

And, since Simmons needed a little more time…

Across the lap it was.

  
“Okay, feed me,” Grif said, trying to sound brave, as he opened his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh, open your eyes! Don’t be so _overdramatic_ ,” Simmons snickered, as Grif peeked at him with one eye, “You’re _such_ a big baby, Grif! And you call ME b-”

“Baby? That’s cause you’re my whiny little b-”

Simmons flushed, and shoved some cranberries into Grif’s mouth to shut him up. He didn’t even wanna know what all Grif had been going to say.

“Blah! Na’ so many, bi’ch!,” Grif complained through a mouthful of unfortunately healthy crap.

“Ahh! Fuck!,” Simmons flinched back, and raised up the arm not wrapped around Grif’s neck to protect his face, “I’m sorry! Don’t spit them at me!”

But, he didn’t hear any reply, or feel any now-soggy cranberries spit at him…

  
And, Simmons WASN’T just being overdramatic. Grif HAD, actually, spit some “healthy crap”, or half-chewed cashews that Simmons had got him to try the other week, right onto the redhead’s _lap_.

It had taken Simmons completely by surprise.

When Grif had, _finally_ , after much bribery, eaten a couple, and Simmons had seen that he seemed to think they tasted okay, he’d made the mistake of telling the other man that “You can make vegan cheese with cashews, and it’s actually not bad. You can even use them to make vegan pizza!”…

And, Grif had spit them at him in retaliation for his “blasphemy”. He’d bitched at Simmons for using the words _vegan_ , and pizza in the same _sentence_ , let alone…

_Annnd_ … Simmons didn’t know what else he’d been going to say, because he had, um, kinda thrown a royal fucking fit, and uh, maybe, he’d tackled the annoying asshole down to the ground, chair ‘n all?

Donut had just laughed and laughed, while leaning on Lopez, who said something sarcastic in Spanish. No surprise there.

And, even, _Sarge_ got involved. (Because, yes, the whole fucking team had happened to be in the kitchen at the same time, for once.)

Sarge had barked out, “Quit wraslin’, you two! Simmons, either strangle the useless soma bitch, or take it to the god dang bedroom already!”

Grif was _laughing_ himself, by that point, -Laughing! While Simmons was pissed as fuck! The _nerve_ of that asshole!-, and Simmons had been straddling the dumbass, _trying_ to land a real solid punch, but dammit! Grif could be quick when it was in his own self-interest to be, and he wasn’t trying to hit Simmons back, but he kept blocking him, and catching his arm or fist with one hand… while trying to _tickle_ him with the other! And, in front of the others! Even, back then! The son of a bitch was un-fricking-believable!

And, there was Sarge, actually, begrudgingly admitting that that was " _actually a pretty decent strategy ta' use on someone like Simmons_ " (What the fuck was THAT supposed to mean!), but Grif was " _ **still** a useless Dirtbag, though_...", and…

The whole thing had just been so fucking embarrassing. They all really had too much time on their hands…

So, you see, Simmons really DID have reason to worry that Grif would spit the cranberries at him...

But, when he peeped through his fingers , all Simmons saw was Grif chewing thoughtfully.

“You… uh, l-like them?,” Simmons asked, kinda awkwardly.

Grif swallowed, and shrugged. They WERE sweeter than he’d thought they’d be. But, he wasn’t gonna tell the Kissass that.

“Eh. I wouldn’t say I _like_ them,” he replied, nonchalantly, “but they’re… I dunno…edible, I guess…”

“You DO like them. I KNEW you would if you just _tried_ them.” Simmons smiled triumphantly, maybe a little patronizingly.

All discomfort swept away.

Straightening up, he put on his ‘Now, let me teach you something here’ voice (God, he _loooved_ to be right.), “They’ve got _way_ more sugar, and calories than one would assume, and they are ‘healthy’, but not as healthy as you’d _think_ , so I figured that **you** of all people-”

And, like Grif had read his mind, and knew he’d been thinking back over their whole, “Tickle Nuts Fight”, as Donut called it… _uggghhh_ … Grif got Simmons back, for his know-it-all, smart-assedness this time, as opposed to his manic maniac tackle n’ assault the previous time, by wrapping an arm firmly around him, -so he couldn’t escape his punishment-, and just outta the blue tickling Simmons _mercilessly_.

And, **of course** , Grif remembered the place right above the redhead’s right hipbone that he’d accidently found back then that had caused him to “win” the aforementioned “fight” as it made Simmons freaking **_shriek_** with laughter, and give up on attempting to punch the rude-ass, uncultured pig in the face in favor of jumping off him, and turning so red (While _insisting_ Grif had started it!) he was surprised he didn’t pass out.

Simmons was trying to squirm away, but Grif had him in too tight a grip for him to escape as easily this time around. The poor redhead was laughing so hard, he was almost _choking_ , and squeaking n’ squealing, and trying to shove Grif away with both hands. Pushing, and smacking at his chest…

Oh, man. The _trials_ of being with someone that knew your weak spots…

  
Grif decided to have mercy on him. It was lucky for Simmons that he was too lazy to fight him for long. Cause Simmons did have some surprisingly wiry strength of his own, and when he got going, it could be hard to keep ahold of him.

The second Grif released him, Simmons fell straight back onto the bed, and tried to scramble away. But, Grif simply chuckled a little darkly at him, and followed him down.

Leaning partially overtop him, caging him in-between his arms, again. He rested his weight on his elbow, and forearm, his fingers sinking into Simmons’ hair.

He really did have a thing for his hair. He wanted to take him back home with him where he could hopefully get him to _really_ grow it out. He wanted to see it halfway down his back. Blowing in the salty sea air…

Holy fuck. That was… whoa… He was losing it. Maybe this was what happened when you wanted someone so fucking bad, but had to hold back? They became like goddamn irresistible, and you started picturing them in sexy postcard settings, or some shit.

While, Grif thought about all this, he ran his fingers through Simmons’ hair. Carefully working out any tangles he’d accidently put in with all his continuous messing with the redhead’s shiny strands, and smoothing them back down.

  
Simmons, in the meantime, was still trying to get his breath back. He was sinking into the pleasure of being… would you call it groomed? He didn’t like that. It sounded like they were animals… Taken care of?

Simmons couldn’t figure it out, and whenever he couldn’t figure something out, he got antsy. So, to try to circumvent that, he decided to focus on how Grif had used secret prior knowledge to win their little… whatever it had been. That was... cheaty as fuck!

He half-gasped out (Cause, yes, he was _still_ outta breath. It hadn’t been that long since Grif tickled the holy hell out of him, and… it didn’t help that his scalp was tingling in pleasure from Grif’s touch, either… Oh my _God_ , it felt so fucking good...), “You- you son of a- that’s not fair, a-asshole. You’re such- such a ch-cheater…”

Grif’s fingers paused for a moment, and then, twitched slightly, and seemingly involuntarily, just as the left side of his face did.

“…Hey man,” Grif mumbled, slowly starting to continue pulling out the knot he’d been working on. He actually really looked kinda disturbed, “I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a fuckin' cheater.”

Simmons blinked in surprise at how serious Grif sounded.

He’d just been joking around… He hadn’t meant to make him upset, or something…

Shit…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Still Here-Digital Daggers: This song embodies where Richard really is at regarding Jimmy, until he represses and blocks and lies. Even to himself. _Especially_ , to himself.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1mJusERf4s%20)  
> (Link Fixed. Sorry!)
> 
> So, I have a theory that the reason Grif eats such total crap, and nothing but, unless forced (In this AU, anyway.), is one, because he wants to, but, two, also, because everything they get is not at all what he would be used to. He could’ve gotten so spoiled living on the islands, where if you wanted to you can always have fresh off the tree, or vine, or out of the ground, fruits, berries, and vegetables that he is so grossed out, and weirded out by the idea of canned, preserved, and dried “healthy” shit. Being someone who prefers sweets anyway, he figures, like what the hell’s the point? But, anyway, it’s just a theory!
> 
> Simmons and Grif will be going to beddy-bye by the end of next chapter, and we will see what Richard is dreaming/reliving that reveals some more of what’s going on, and what has gone on… so… yeah… We will be moving further into the story., and-
> 
> WARNING: As we continue, please always check the Chapter tags, and keep the story and archive tag/s in mind. Those warnings are truly there for a reason. Especially, as we go on in the future with these characters and, also, as their pasts’ are revealed.
> 
> Thanks, again, as always, to those that are reading this story. Much Love To You All!
> 
> ♡–MissyAnn❀


	15. The Water’s So Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Richie? Hi- Whoa-Whoa! Be careful!”  
>  _Holy FUCK! He almost fell. He almost fell. He almost-_
> 
> “Jimmy? Oh, hi. What’s up?,” the Kid regains his balance... And, he _smiles_. All chill and friendly. As if this is all so totally freaking normal… “Heh. You see that? I almost fell. **SPLAT**. Right on the r-au-ocks. Heehee. Funny, huh? Or, wait! No!,” A thoughtful frown, “That’d make such a mess, huh? Hmmm…”
> 
> “Richie-”.
> 
> “Oh! And, Jimmy, guess what?,” Richie cuts him off, as per usual, exclaiming excitedly, “You remember that sea dragon you made outta that pine block? I coulda swore I saw it down in the water- HA! I mean- I mean, not the wood one! Like a REAL one. *Snort*… I feel kinda funny…”
> 
> _Stepping forward. Forcing himself to be So. Careful. So. Slow. This all feels surreal… Richie still doesn’t notice him-_
> 
> “Kid-” Speaking lowly. Cautiously.
> 
> “Richard! Hi!,” Richie, -eyes so brilliant, but frighteningly glassy-, looks over, and he sounds so _happy_ to see him, “Did you come out to see the sea dragon, too?”
> 
> “No. I came to see you. Now, don’t move, Kid. You’re so fuckin’ stoned. Do you remember how many pills you took?-”…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for Chapter: TRIGGER WARNINGS! Please do not read, or proceed w/caution if sensitive to the following topics: Suicide/Attempted Suicide/(Hinted toward)Controlled/Assisted Suicide, Underage Prescription Drug Use/Overdose, Underage Relationship w/possible Mental Age Difference, Violence/Aggression toward Underage Individuals, Child Neglect/Abuse, Dangerously Homophobic Environment, Characters have moments of insensitivity toward other sexualities and genders, Richard being wonderful, Richard being an irrepressible asshole, Simmons and Richard, whatever the case, are NOT, one and the same
> 
> Okay, guys, the tags, the summary. I know. What the hell, right? Where’d this chapter come from? Well, the truth of it is that I’ve been ridiculously sick. I should be going to the hospital, but I keep trying to get away with not having to. And, today, our only car broke down. Like, real bad. Like as in non-operational, have to pull the engine, it’d cost more than the car’s worth to get it fixed, did you know money doesn’t grow on frickin’ trees, especially when you currently live on a strict budget, cause I sure do, this is when you realize how unfair it is you and your man (Who’s _really_ good w/ his hands- Heehee- No, seriously! If he can’t fix it, we’re boned, and NOT in a good way.) have each other, but not any family anymore like “regular” people, outside of the little one you created together against all odds (Which that’s kinda sweet, at least, I guess?), that kinda bad. I think I’ve finally really lost it. Anyway, seriously, please, #pray4missyscarissue
> 
> Nevertheless, I remembered that I promised that if things got crazy, again, with life or my yo-yo health problems, I would post a backstory chapter. This may seem like an insane one to pick due to all the things revealed in it, but, honestly, this chapter was, originally, only going to be a couple of chapters past right now, anyway. So, it's kinda just like a slightly early release. (Anyway, with Halloween coming up, and the spooky, strange questions the chapter brings up, maybe it’s the perfect time!) Also, regarding the underage relationship tag, some of the kids in these communities mentally grow up very fast. And, a lot of them start having secret (some long-lasting) relationships really young, so even if this is cringy to some, trust me, it isn’t at all uncommon.
> 
> (Reminder: It’s Simmons that was previously known as “Richie”.)
> 
>  
> 
>  

Richard half-reclined back on the bed. Holding himself up on his elbows, as he watched the smaller boy pace around the room.

The way he paced, and seemed to be having an internal argument with himself...

  
He reminded Richard a lot of a miniature him or Simmons at the moment...

  
Richard couldn’t fuckin’ _believe_ that this had even happened. Or, was happening. Of course, he spent so damn much of his life, or half-life (Whatever the hell this was), secretly thinking exactly that so…

It wasn’t really a new feeling. 

  
They’d just been chilling out, watching an old, - _Really_ old-, Indiana Jones movie (The real shitty one.), and Simmons had passed out for the night.

Literally, in the middle of a sentence.

“NOT plausible, _at all_ -,” Jimmy was insisting.

And, Simmons had cut him off (They always did that to each other.) to sleepily claim, “Yeah! You’re right… Well, _this_ time, anyway... It **is** SO dumb… I… really think that… other-,” and, then, he trailed off...

  
And, fell silent.

  
Richard had been sorta absently watching/listening to the crappy movie in question, and not paying much attention to the two boys curled together under a blanket. They acted like a coupla cuddly sisters. All gossiping, and brushing and braiding each other’s hair n’ shit.

Arguing over different aspects of scientific theory...

That they were BOTH a little off on as the very word ‘theory’ when referring to science, in particular, had an entirely different connotation, and-

But, whatever. He didn’t want to get too deep into the nerd-fest.

He had to watch himself with being around these two all the damn time.

  
(Sometimes, very, very secretly, he wished they could get a fourth dude to hang out with that was… more chill, and less… fuckin’ goody-goody an’ all poindexter n’ crap.)

  
Oh, well. I, mean, sure. The kids could be kinda ridiculous, sometimes, but, eh, it was all innocent enough.

And, even, sorta cute (Or, disgustingly endearing?), in a weird way.

And, hell, it was nice to see the Kid be comfortable around someone else. He was, normally, so frickin’ uptight. Especially, for someone so damn young.

The truth was that… seeing the Kid fuckin’ _relax_ once in a while? It really helped Richard chill out some, too.

  
But… still... 

  
He had to sorta distance himself from it, though, cause, well… he didn’t know… just cause.

So _girly_. And, they were just kids, and… whatever…

Regardless, he liked it here at Jimmy’s house. It really was relaxing.

And, fuck, Simmons had been right. Richard had to admit it.

It **was** goddamn nice to get to actually not have to hide from someone.

To be able to be himself.

That shit’s priceless, man.

  
Although...

  
Sometimes, the little dark-haired pixie princess gave him the strangest looks. Like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite figure out how to put it into words…

Huh…

And, a few of the times here or there when he and Jimmy had been alone, rather due to Simmons falling asleep, or having an issue, and needing to be _put_ to sleep…

The smaller boy had said some odd things. Like: “Richard, I- I’m glad you’re okay. I thought- I thought… never mind.” Or: “How do you feel? Do you, um, feel different? You- you seem more calm… ~~Then, you were right after it happened, anyway…Richard? Do you remember? That night? Are you really okay, because I saw- I saw-”~~

Strange kid.

Well, whatever. Kids were weird. That was just a known fact.

A fact that Richard was distracted from musing over when Simmons fell silent.

  
And, Richard couldn’t help himself.

He turned toward a curious Jimmy, snickering, and grinning a little conspiratorially at the Kid’s expense, “He’s _out_ , dude.”

And, one second Richard and Jimmy were cracking up at what a light-weight Simmons always was, -he never made it through a movie night without passing out-, and the next…

Jimmy had leaned over, and shyly, and more than a little awkwardly (He’d obviously never done this before.)...

  
He’d kissed him.

  
And, before Richard could register the implications, the possible consequences, or-or anything else, his hand was slipping into Jimmy’s long black hair… _Fuck. It’d been so long since he’d touched someone… kissed someone_ … he was turning his dark head for a better angle… _Even **he** could get lonely_ … His other hand was cupping his soft, pale cheek… Thumb ghosting over the boy’s cheekbone… _Boy… He’d never done this with a boy_ … Guiding the smaller boy… _Younger?... No… No…_ into a deeper, more comfortable kiss…

But, when Jimmy’s hand reached up to touch his cheek, to mirror his action, and he whispered, “Richard…” against his lips…

He came crashing back to reality. Or, whatever this fucked up version of reality was that he lived in anymore.

He jerked back. Forcing himself to ignore the little whine that escaped the pretty boy’s pretty, pink lips...

  
_Oh, **fuck**. Don’t. Don’t think like that._

  
“Jimmy, no. It’s- We- This is- We can’t.”

Shit. He was stumbling over his words. Sounding almost like _Simmons_ , for Christ’s sake!

Jimmy cocked his head at him, “Because of the Chur-“

“What? NO. Not because of **them**. Since when do I give a fuck what they think? No, man, it’s, uh… ya know…”

“Cause we’re both boy-”

“NO, dumbass! Cause, I’m too ol- You’re too- You know I’m not Simmons, right? Were you trying to kiss Sim-“

Jimmy frowned, pushing Richard further away from him so he could shove the blanket off them both, and climb right off the bed.

  
And, that’s when he’d started to pace.

  
Eventually, as if he hadn’t been completely silently pacing the room fighting some inner conflict for the past couple of minutes, he spoke.

“NO! That’d be so weird. We’ve been friends forever… I… listen, I know it’s _you_ , Richard. I **know** that.  Maybe, more than you do……”

That last was nearly inaudible.

Richard’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he chose to ignore it in favor of the current issue at hand.

“Look, man,” Richard sounded as uncomfortable as he felt, “I shouldn’t have… kissed you back like that. Or… at all. That was, uh- that was messed up of me. I mean, shit, dude, that was so fuckin’ wrong, it’s not even funny. You’re jus' a kid…”

“A KID! I’m almost a year older!,” Jimmy squealed indignantly, spinning back toward him, long raven hair flying out behind him.

“Then _Simmons_ , you idiot!,” Richard retorted angrily.

And, Jimmy paused. His whole body going completely still. Then, very slowly he asked, “Wait. So, you… Do you remem-… How old do you think you are?”

Richard’s mouth opened, then, snapped shut. His eyes slid away, as he said, his voice incredibly grumbly, and not _remotely_ sounding like Simmons… But still, the _tone_ , the cadence sounding so very, very… familiar, “Shut up. I dunno. None of your damn business- _Ah, fuck_.”

And, Jimmy was coming purposefully back over to him, climbing back onto the bed. Climbing _up his body_. Practically, stalking him like a wild little pussycat.

  
And, hands on Richard’s chest, balancing himself above, and leaning over top him, with his dark raven hair curtaining his face, Jimmy spoke to him in the hushed tones of confession, “I always liked you, Richard. For so, so long. But, you never _really_ noticed me before… I mean, but, of course, you wouldn’t have. I was too young. I was just Richie’s, er, I mean, Simmons’ - Still hard to get used to that\- uh, just his best friend. But, there was that one time… A coupla’ years ago… before… And, I **know** it was just cause I’m best friends with Simmons, but… Do you… Do you remember, at all? That time I was coming over to see Richie… We- we all always called him Richie before… before… Anyway… and that older kid was riding his bike past your guys’ house, and he saw me in your front yard? And, he dropped his bike, and started yelling at me, and coming-coming toward me… He said he was gonna kick my- uh, beat me up for ‘trying to look like a pretty girl’. When all I was doing was being ME! I mean, my-my hair _was_ down but… Anyway, you were actually home for once, and you came out of the house, and- and you saved me from him. You yelled at him, like, “ _Hey, f-…_ ’…Uh… f-word-face, what the h-e- double hockey sticks are you doing?-”

Richard had been looking a little nervous, and kinda sick, eyes too wide and slightly glassy, as Jimmy said things he couldn’t bear to- things he simply didn’t understand. But, that… The idea of him ever saying _that_ … He snorted loudly, and chuckled, his hands, unconsciously, coming to rest atop Jimmy’s slender ones that still pressed down onto his chest, Thumbs, reflexively, sliding underneath, and brushing so softly against the smaller boy’s palms, causing him to shiver. “Gimme a break, man. ‘F-word face’? ‘What the h-e- double-’ * _Snort_ * Ah, man. _Classic_ Jimmy. You’re a fuckin’ riot, dude.”

Jimmy just smiled slightly down at him, and quietly continued, “Of course, _you_ didn’t say that. YOU actually said the bad words. You never got in trouble for that. Like _ever_ … Anyway… so, you yelled at him, and then, you came over, and- and pulled me back by you, and you asked me if I was okay… Um, and, I, uh, I don’t wanna admit it, but- but I… I, mighta, um, mighta… I hid behind you like a total wimp!”

“Well, at least, THAT part I can believe,” Richard snickered.

Jimmy flushed, but forced himself to continue, “You were- were nice about it, though. You just told me to go into your guys’ house, and- and I went but… but I didn’t listen to you, and I waited by the porch swing instead of going inside. I don’t know why I did that, but… And, I heard you telling that guy, -almost **nicely** , well, nicely for YOU, like- like, maybe, you thought he just hadn’t known-, you told him that I was ‘the kid’s best friend’, so I was under your ‘families protection’, but the guy… he sounded all rude, and like he didn’t believe you… he said **he’d** never heard anything about that, no one had told _him_ , and then- and then-

Jimmy paused. Looking down at him. Touching his face… It’d taken him the past almost two and a half years (Yes. Two and a half years. Although, Simmons had just told him less than six months ago…) to get comfortable with the idea that Richard didn’t physically look like Richard, anymore. Not just the size or age difference, but… the eye color, the hair…

Their facial structure, although Richard had always been considered more “boyishly” attractive, and less “girlishly pretty”, had always been strikingly similar, though.

So that helped.

  
As Jimmy looked down at him, seeming to see into his very _soul_ (Which Richard SO didn’t quite believe in.), it was Richard who was now very still. He hardly blinked. Hardly breathed. He simply stared up into Jimmy’s dark eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. Because, it- it sounded so… so _familiar_ , but he didn’t- he _couldn’t_ actually remember...

  
After swallowing a little nervously, the dark-haired boy went on, “Then, you hit him real-really hard a- a couple times. One second you were talking to him all calm, and the next he was on the ground… And, you said, in that spooky kill-killer voice you used to do, sometimes, ‘ _Yeah? Well, then, this is me telling you, bi-_ ’ A-And, then, you called him a bad word, and told him to… to f off, except, you know you, and your mouth. Of course, you said ALL the bad words. And, when you came back to the house, and saw me on the porch… You, like, groaned, but, then, grinned at me like a scary wolf or something, and you were- you were- so TALL, and-and so handsome, and you said, ‘ _Ah, man, you saw that?... Don’t tell Richie, alright? Promise? I don’t want him worrying about this stuff. He’s just a kid._ ’ And, I couldn’t- suddenly, I couldn’t talk to you. You totally rescued me, but I was too shy! So, I nodded like an idiot, and you… you ruffled my hair, and opened the door all wide, and said, ‘ _Cool, kid. It’ll be our little secret… Now, you comin’ in, or what?_ ’

“And, Richard, I kept my promise. I didn’t- I didn’t tell Richie about it. Maybe, you just figured I did, I don’t know… We- you and me, didn’t really talk, again, until… Well, until… when you called me that night… when it happened… and we were trying to- to find him… and it was so scary… even before he jumped in… or fell in… I don’t know why… It really seemed like- like he was coming down…”

Jimmy looked lost in memory. His voice had gotten so low. Breathless and distressed. He didn’t even seem to realize he was speaking aloud, anymore. Or, that Richard, gone sickly, pasty pale, was shaking underneath him.

“It was so cold that night…,” the smaller boy quietly continued, “you gave me your jacket… But, you were telling me I shouldn’t have come out… you just wanted to check if he was with me, but I… I told you, then, I’d look for him myself, so you- you let me go… go with you…”

Jimmy slipped the hand that had been softly caressing Richard's cheek back down his jaw, his neck, and down to rest back onto his chest. To, once again, slip underneath one of Richard's slightly trembling hands. And, Richard pressed Jimmy's always smaller palms and fingers more, then more, firmly against him. As if he wanted to fuse them together, somehow. Or, maybe... at a time like this... with Simmons sound asleep, and having to always be safeguarded against... everything... to, finally, truly feel like he wasn't alone in all this...

And, eyes unfocused and dazed, Richard found himself inexplicably murmuring under his breath, “…have ta' go in-… If I hit the rocks, I can’t do shit-” 

Jimmy’s own eyes closed, and he nodded. Yes. Yes… 

He sunk down.

Laid his head down onto Richard’s chest. 

Feeling their joined hands beneath his cheek…

  


✣✣✣✣✣✣

  
Voices in Richard’s head.

So clear. So recognizable.

While everything else was… so, so very blurry. Indistinct. Like someone hearing the soundtrack of a movie so clearly, but being without their prescription lenses. (But, then, having these unexplainable strange moments, quick instances, of absolute visual clarity… As if the lenses were momentarily put back on… only to be stolen away, again.)

Left with only that and their own thoughts to decipher what the fuck was going on…

Or, like- like (Oh god- Oh god- NoNoNo-), instead of seeing it as a movie… seeing it all through- through a film of… Of water… Cold, cold water…

All at once, Richard can **hear** the chiming, the ringing through of a link.

And, then, he hears…

Himself. His own thoughts. But, in his- in HIS voice…

  
_C’mon, c’mon… Answer… Answer, dammit!_

  
“H-Hello?”

  
That’s Jimmy. Jesus, that’s Jimmy’s voice. Sounding a little younger. A little squeakier, but…

All Richard can think is, ‘Oh, god, if there is a god. I know, I say there’s not, but, please, I can’t- I can’t go through this… Not again.’

Sadly, it won’t be the last time he thinks something along those lines.

But, no celestial being, that he can’t bring himself to believe in after all he’s seen and been through, answers him, or grants him any form of mercy or respite.

So, he lays there. Trapped in so many ways. In the skin he wears. In this memory that has come to haunt him.

All he can do, as his own blocks betray him, and open windows into places that should have been long condemned, is hold tighter onto Jimmy’s hands, and try to, -mentally, at least-, hide under the slight weight of the boy atop him. As though he were a security blanket.

A security blanket that knows him, yes. But, also, knows his deepest, darkest secrets.

Not very fair…

But, then, since when has either of the Simmons boy’s lives _ever_ been fair?

A frightening, but, possibly, preferable thought. Perhaps, a safer mental path to traverse-

But, as much as he’d like to contemplate, to meander, to wade endlessly, in these much less turbulent waters…

He sinks.

Into the past. Into the one memory that, at this point, apart from what followed directly after, is the one he hides from the Kid, and from himself, more than any other… 

  


**❈ Compound Grounds/Simmons Residence: 2 ½ Years Prior ❈ **

 

_C’mon, c’mon… Answer… Answer, dammit!_

  
“H-Hello?”

  
Finally- Took the kid long enough to pick up- 

  
“Hey, Jimmy? It’s Richard. Sorry ta' wake you, kid. Richie’s with you, right?”

“Huh?,” he yawns, still sounding half-asleep, “With me? No. It’s a school night. Why- Wait. Isn’t he in bed?”

“Fuck. No, I, uh… I came back late tonight, an' he’s not here… Shit!...”

  
Fuck. Fuck! Don’t know where to look. Don’t know where the hell to look-

  
“Richard? Where’s Richie’s mother, and, uh… your guys’ father-”

“Old man’s still outta town, an' surprise, surprise! The bitch’s tranq-ed outta her mind… And… there’s pills all over… Look, Jimmy, you gotta level with me, kid. It’s important… -Can’t believe I’m frickin’ asking this-, Has Richie been takin' his mom’s meds?”

“…Um… N-No?,” the boy sounds unsure… then insists, “No!”

  
Ohhh, you little bastard.

  
“Don’t you fuck with me right now, dammit! I know shit gets jacked when I’m not here. And… look, I get that you wanna be loyal n’ that’s cool, but now’s not the time!”

“Well, I… uh…”

“Jimmy, listen, I know you’re a kid, too, but you’re fuckin’ older than him. And, this is ME, dammit. I’m not gonna get him into any trouble. I’m not one of **them**. I know it seems like- Don’t I always try to watch out for you guys whenever I can? Now, I need you to tell me the truth. Richie’s _missing_ , Jimmy. It’s the middle of the damn night, and there’s tranqs all over his frickin’ bathroom floor! So, you fuckin’ TELL ME-”

“Okay, okay!, Quit swearing at me!...,” the boy, finally, gives in, albeit reluctantly, and mumbles, “Er, uhm… well, I thought it was just that one time… Uh, and the other time…”

“Goddammit! He's just a little **kid**!... That fuckin’…

  
That’s it. Where is she, now? Where is that heartless-

THERE. Passed out, again. On the couch, now. Can’t be bothered to look for her own kid-

  
“HEY, BITCH!”

  
_* **SLAP** * _

  
“ *Gasp* Oh geez. Richard, don’t,” Jimmy gasps so loudly it’s surprising that he didn’t pass out, “…Did you just **smack** Richie’s mom? Just… Just be careful! Don’t, uh, you know, get too… too, um… how you get…”

“Shut up, kid. I’m busy...,” Shushing the boy up, so he can focus on this piece of fucking filth… also known as Richie’s mother, “You even awake, you stupid cunt? WHERE IS HE?! Your kid’s missing, and you’re stoned off your ass?! Nice. Real goddamn NICE. You couldn’t lock up your shit?! What? You can lock up your goddamn jewelry, but not your drugs? You WANT something to happen to the Kid? Fuckin’ trashy BITCH!”

“Richard?,” Jimmy asks tentatively, “Will you listen-”

“I said to Shut. Up. Jimmy! I’m talkin’ to the cunt here!- You hear that? You even listenin' to me, bitch? You better PRAY ta' your clay gods that nothing’s happened ta' the Kid, or you’re DEAD, rich bitch- Or, should I say Rich’s Bitch? And, speakin' of him, he’s next! What’d he do? Call the Kid from the conference jus' to tell him he’s fuckin’ worthless?!-”

  
_*Indistinct Mumbles* *Light Snore*_

Are you _SHITTING_ me, right now?

  
“Oh, yeah. Jus' go on back to sleep, you useless sheep. That’s what you’re best at. Mother of the FUCKIN’ year here. I'm so **done** with this crap-”

  
Walk away. Have to physically turn, and walk away before he actually strangles her.

  
“When I find him, I’m taking him back home with me! My mother might not be fuckin' perfect, but she would never DREAM of pullin' this shit!”

  
_***SLAM***_

  
“Um, Richard…. **Richard**.”

“WHAT?!,” Literally, yelling like a complete asshole into Jimmy’s ear.

“Don’t yell at me!!!,” the boy yelps angrily, but, then, he’s gasping nervously, again, “Oh, shoot! Gotta be quiet so I don’t wake up my parents… Okay, they’re still sleeping. Whew. Listen, I think he might be by the water? Around the dock or the pier? He likes to go there, and, ya know… think about… stuff. He’s been doing that a lot lately…

“Jesus, Jimmy! Why the hell didn’t you say so earlier?!”

“I tried!,” he squeaks.

“Eugh. Whatever. And, ‘think about stuff’? At his age? Look, I know you two have ‘high IQ’s’, too, an’ all that crap, but gimme a freakin' break. I didn’t do that shit at that age…”

“Yeah? Well, you know it was very different for you… *Sigh*… Are you going to the water?”

“Of course I am. I’m almost there. I don’t even know why I’m still talkin’ to you, right now. Dude, I gotta go-"

“Wait!,” Jimmy cries out as quietly as possible, “Don’t start yelling for him, or something! Not ‘til you’re by the water. If someone in the neighborhood hears and tells your father about this, he’ll be in big trouble…”

  
_Fuck that._

  
“In trouble for what? I’m not gonna let that happen. The old man listens to me… sometimes…”

  
He fuckin’ ought to after all I do…

  
“But, Richard, you’re not always here. He’d just punish him when you’re gone, again.”

  
…The worst part is? They both know that’s absolutely true.

  
“…  Fuck.”

“…I know…,” Jimmy sighs sadly, but continues with clear determination, “It’s okay. I’ll help find him. I’m on my way-”

“What? Hell, no!,” Trying (And, probably, failing.) to not use his ‘I’m ‘bout ta’ slap a bitch’ voice, “Listen, Jimmy, I’m already headed over there, alright? **I’ll** find him. You turn your ass around, an' go back to bed… I don’t need some freaking kid slowing me- Wait… Is that… Are you fuckin' with me, right now? Is that _you_? In your **pajamas**? You don’t even have a jacket on, you little idiot! Get the hell over here before someone sees you wandering the damn streets in the middle of the night, and reports seeing fuckin' fairies, again-”

  
Although, shit. That **was** pretty goddamn funny.

  
“Okay, okay! And, hey! That wasn’t just me! Richie was there, too! An’ Miss Williams is very old-”

“Yeah, well, the frickin’ flower crowns didn’t help, princess,” Can’t help but snicker at such a memory. These damn kids… “You dudes should jus' be glad it was me that got the message- Whatever. That doesn’t matter, right now. Now, I TOLD you to go home an’- Well, hang up your damn link, you little nut! We’re standing right next to each other. An’ what do you think you’re even doing? You’re not going with me. Or, chasing after me. Look at you. You can’t keep up. You’re fuckin’ tiny.”

“And, you’re f- flippin’ rude!,” the offended dark-haired boy complains, glaring up at him.

“Yeah, whatever. You shouldn’t have come out. I just wanted to check if he was with you. I told you I’d look for him myself… Dammit. Great. Jus' great. And, now, you’re shaking. You’re freezing!”

  
The wind might’ve died down for the night, but it’s still freaking COLD, and the Kid’s best friend is dressed only in purple cotton sleep pants, and a black t-shirt. Kinda surprised that, in his rush, he even bothered to remember to slip on some shoes. That _aren’t_ just slippers, anyway.

**Bunny** slippers.

After all, isn’t this the kid that got Richie those giant-eared bunny slippers as a gag gift for one of his Christmas presents last year? And, when Richie complained that they were “for girls”, the dark-haired boy giggled, -like a total girl-, and said, “Why should they get to have all the fun?”

Heh… But, there’s no time to think about silly shit and better times, right now. Gotta find Richie, and-

  
His friend’s trembling. Shaking like a little leaf.

_Great._

  
“Oh my god, you freakin’ kids are gonna be the fuckin’ death a’ me… I’m too young for all this damn stress… Here. Take my jacket…”

  
Slipping off the soft black leather, and draping it over the dark-haired boy’s narrow shivering shoulders.

This boy… this **child** looks up. A undecipherable look crossing his face. Whatever it was, it doesn’t fit the features of one so young.

Then, it’s gone. And, only worry remains.

Ah, man. These weird kids.

  
“Now, go on home. And, don’t trip in that thing. It’s huge on you, kid-”

“Um… y-yeah…,” the smaller boy murmurs obediently, but, then, he shakes himself, and sounds incredibly frustrated, “Wait, NO! I’ll -I’ll just go look for him myself, then! He’s my best friend, you know, and, now, I’m really worried!”

“I thought you said he’s been doing this lately, though-”

“Yeah, with ME, _duh_. Not **alone**.”

  
…Fuck… Yeah, that’s… that’s not really the same…

  
“…Shit… Alright. But, I can’t wait for you. You’ll have to catch up.”

“Okay. Just go!”

......

Where the hell is he? Where the hell could the Kid be?

  
*Pant* *Pant* “Did you- Did you find him? Ah! Richard, NO! Don’t hit me!”

  
Ho-ly Shit. Almost slugged the boy right in the face. Mother **Fucker**.

  
“Fuck! Sorry, sorry. Christ, kid! Watch it, already. You can’t sneak up on me like that!,” Nerves cause his voice to come out much sharper than intended, “And, no, I didn’t FIND him. Does it LOOK like I found him? Why you gotta ask such dumb shit? Seriously-”

“Oh, be quiet. You’re SUCH a huge jer- Oh my God-”

“Lord’s name in vain, huh? Impressive.”

  
There may, yet, be hope for this new ass kissing generation-

  
“Richard,” Jimmy, cutting off his thoughts, whispers, “I-I see him-”

  
Azure eyes following the boy’s line of sight… Oh my god. Oh my fucking GOD-

Feeling small fingers. A shockingly vise-like grip around his wrist.

  
“Don’t,” Though, spoken so softly, and out of such a small boy, it was unequivocally a command, “Don’t yell. Don’t scare him. He could fall.”

  
And, he sure as hell could. Cause there’s Richie. There’s the Kid. Walking back and forth on top of the pier’s old partially rotting high railing. Periodically, looking down and leaning slightly over. So shiny, deep red hair loose, and glinting in the moonlight as he gazes into the water far below.

Fear. Overtaking every thought. Every shortened, shaky breath.

-This can’t be happening- This can’t be happening- This can’t be-

Walking so carefully down to the end of the pier, and up behind the Kid. (At least, the lights are working out here. Why didn’t they notice him sooner?) The dark-haired boy’s tight grip the only thing that keeps some semblance of planning and forethought in the mix, The only thing that keeps the fear from running rampant. That keeps him from his instinctual, -and, very likely, disastrous and catastrophic -, panicked rushed movements forward..

A surprising steady squeeze to the wrist, and Jimmy is whispering-

  
“Just… let me talk to him first. I’ve been here with him at night before. It won’t be so… surprising… to hear me here…”

  
Then, sounding shockingly calm, and friendly- Before, the panic just slightly seeps out... The boy keeps it together so well, considering…

  
“Richie? Hi- Whoa- Whoa! Be careful!”

  
Holy FUCK! He almost fell. He almost fell. He almost- He almost-

  
“Jimmy? Oh, hi. What’s up?,” the Kid regains his balance right as his so bright green eyes alight and zero in on his dark-haired friend. And. he _smiles_. All chill and friendly. As if this is all so totally freaking normal. Just another ‘Day in the Life’ for one of the Simmons boys! “Heh. You see that? I almost fell. **SPLAT**. Right on the r-au-ocks. Heehee. Funny, huh? Or, wait! No!,” A thoughtful frown, “That’d make such a mess, huh? Hmmm…”

“Richie-,” Looking much too pale and sick, the smaller boy actually even _sounds_ nauseous. (CAN someone “sound” nauseous? Apparently so.) But, still, his neck cranes back in order to see the Kid, and attempting to match Richie’s normal everyday tone of voice, he repeats, “Richie-”.

“Oh! And, Jimmy, guess what?,” Richie cuts him off, as per usual, exclaiming excitedly, “You remember that sea dragon you made outta that pine block? I coulda swore I saw it down in the water- HA! I mean- I mean, not the wood one! Like a REAL one. *Snort* I feel kinda funny…”

  
…Stepping forward. Forcing himself to be So. Careful. So. Slow. This all feels surreal… Richie still doesn’t notice him. Have to get him down. Gotta sound chill. Relaxed. Like everything’s fine. Like the rocks and the freezing water aren’t awaiting the Kid down below-

_No!_

Calm. Be Calm…

  
“Kid-” Speaking lowly. Cautiously.

“Richard! Hi!,” Richie, -eyes so brilliant, but frighteningly glassy-, looks over, and he sounds so _happy_ to see him, “Did you come to see the sea dragon, too?”…

“No. I came ta' see you. Now, don’t move, Kid. You’re so fuckin’ stoned. Do you remember how many pills you took?-” Son of a bitch! Why did he ask that NOW of all times? He’s a complete jackass! The Kid’s expression promptly changes, and he has to backtrack. Has to try to sound soothing, “Hey, hey, don’t get that look. Let’s just forget about that, right now-”

“You’re- You’re mad-You’re mad!,” his red-headed brother stammers, instantly, trembling and shuffling about on the too thin railing-

  
Can actually FEEL the smaller boy’s dark eyes looking fearfully, and pleadingly, at him. Silently begging him to Fix. This.

FuckFuckFuck- Okay. Gotta calm the fuck down. Chill. Just chill…

  
“Look at me,” he hears himself tell Richie, “I’m not mad at you. Not you. Never you. Who’s my favorite little dude, huh?”

“Me!,” the boy in question automatically declares. He knows that. Richard’s taken on their father enough times to get him out of trouble for him to know that very definitively.

“That’s right,” Attempting to sound pacifying even as so slowly edging closer…, “Now, stay still. I’m jus' gonna get you down-”

  
But, as life can never be that fucking easy, the little stoned-off-his-ass boy decides he DOESN’T like that plan.

  
“Nu-uh. Don’t. Stop. Stop! I don’t wanna get down,” Richie insists, then, sounds dreamy n’ sad- Then, furious. All in a frighteningly short span of time. He’s so goddamn high… And, this, apparently, isn’t even the first time… His mother should be in fucking jail… Oh, what sins a little green can hide…, “Look, I’m so tall up here,” Richie is continuing, “I’m taller than **you** , Richard. So, I’m better than you. At- At least, at something, right? At least, one thing- No! No! Get back! Get BACK!”

“Richard, stop!,” Jimmy snatches at him, “He’s gonna fall!”

“Jimmy, be quiet…,” Grimacing, but freezing in place, regardless. The Kid really did almost fall, again, after all, “Okay, look, Richie. I’m just standing here. We’re just talking, right? Why are you really up there, anyway?”

“Ummm… I dunno…,” he bites anxiously at his lower lip, “I-I don’t have to say... Do- Do I?”

“Richie, c’mon-”

“No! You’re not the boss of me! Maybe, you’re better than me, but you’re not the boss of me! And, and I- and, I,” He’s squeaking angrily, only to have a stray tear fall- And, now, he sniffles, “… I’m… I’m kinda sad? I think?… I’m so sad… Ya know? But, that’s alright. Can’t tell anyone. ‘Just a burden’, anyway… ‘Disappointment’… Blah, blah… ‘Never be as good as your brother’- Blah…”

  
Jesus CHRIST. What is wrong with the old man? Why can’t he just leave Richie alone? Didn’t Richard, himself, do enough fucked up shit to keep him happy? To keep him off the Kid’s back…

  
“Son of a bitch… Richie, listen ta' me. The old man’s a fuckin’ drunk, and an idiot. You’re already better than me in every way that counts. Fuck him. You understand me? Fuck him and fuck your damn mom, too. Fuck them BOTH.”

“…I’m not... sure…”

“I mean it. In the long run, they’re not gonna matter, Kid. **I** love you, your best friend loves you- We won’t need them forever, so They. Don’t. Matter. Got it? Now, can you get down on your own, or are you gonna let me get you-?”

“Hmmm… I guess-,” Richie sounds so thoughtful, but, then, he seems to think he sees something in the water far below that distracts him, again, and he’s _leaning_ -, “Hey, did you see that?! I’m serious. There’s something in the water! It’s so WEIRD. Jimmy, come up here and look.”

  
Can’t grab the smaller kid’s, who released him earlier, arm fast enough. Probably, too hard, but fuck it. NOT gonna have **two** of them up there.

  
“Don’t even THINK about it,” Again, from another time, another place, he hears himself (Himself. That is HIM.) as clear as can be. Growling out the words so aggressively, so threateningly that if this kid didn’t already know that he was, through his connection to Richie, one of the very few people in possibly the entire world that Richard could never really be able to physically hurt… well, fuck, he’d probably be crying like a little girl.

“I-I wasn’t!-“ Jimmy scowls up at him, a _nearly_ Richie-worthy scowl (The Kid’s always been a scowler.), then, seeming to dismiss him and his ‘over-blown violent tendencies’ as he’ll come to call them, he turns to the Kid, and asks, “Richie? Hey, Richie? I have a better idea, ‘k? Aren’t you hungry? I’m super hungry. Richard could make us those ice cream sundaes we aren’t supposed to have. Ya know, that he makes us when we’re all at the house alone, sometimes?… And, we could watch a movie… Whichever one you want-”

Richie squints suspiciously, “But… On a school night?... Well, maybe… Richard, too? All three of us?”

  
Okay. Fine. We’ll play it this way. Maybe this is better.

  
“Sure, Kid,” Voice full of promises. Of reassurances. Anything. Whatever it takes, “Where else would I rather be?”

  
Then, the Kid, chill as can be, pops out with a fuckin’ doozy.

  
“Mmm… I dunno. Maybe, making babies with your really mean girlfriend?” 

  
Wha- What the- Holy- SO close to sputtering like the Kid, while the dark-haired boy glances up at him outta the corner of his eye. Do they even really know what that **means**? How the FUCK do they-

But, then, Richie’s words, ALL of them really hit.

And, the RAGE starts to peek above the surface.

  
But, still, attempting to hide it, and question shortly, “Was she mean to you, Richie?”

“It doesn’t matter…,” he murmurs, bowing his head. Scuffing his slippered toe (No, not the giant-eared tripping hazardous bunny slippers, thank fuck.) against the railing…

“It DOES matter. You’re more important to me than some girl- But, I’ll deal with it later.”

Jimmy leans close, and whispers, “She, um, told both of us we ‘should watch out’, cause we looked 'like a coupla _those_ types of boys’, an’ we 'should, at least, try ta’ act more like actual _boys_ , instead of girly boys so people don’t get the wrong impression’ and… you know… uh, Richie was… upset… .”

  
What the fuck… Dammit! …Was just… with that bitch-

  
“Jimmy!” Richie, throwing one of his typical mini-fits, stamps his foot down onto the railing, causing tiny splinters, and just the littlest bitsy slivers of wood, to poof out into the air between the three of them, …It scares Richard and Jimmy half to death, “D-Don’t- don’t tell him about that!,” he sputters indignantly.

When they see the wood wobble only so slightly, then stabilize, Jimmy softly assures, “Richie, it’s okay. If it’s part of why you’re up there, of why you don’t wanna come down, he needs to know. And, see, I told you he wouldn’t be mad at us about anything she said. And, he’s _not_. Right, Richard?”

The boy’s tone reminds him to keep it cool. Richie, in his current state, could take any sign of anger as being directed toward him personally, “Hell, no. Why would I be pissed at you guys? That doesn’t make any sense. Now, c’mon, buddy. C’mon, now. You know I love you, Kid. Lemme help you, okay? Alright?”

“...Um, well, I… But, what about if, uh… I-I guess… O-okay… I’m sorry, I… I’m really sorry. A-Am I-,” The Kid’s voice keeps faltering, “Am I in really big trouble? I don’t want to be- Richard, I- I’m-I’m scared…”

“Shhh…,” Shushing him. Comforting, and promising him, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Richie. You’re alright. I’ll take care of it. No matter what, I’ll take care of you, alright? I didn’t know it was really this bad. I won’t let anything else bad happen, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you. No matter what I have to do. Jus' take my hands. C’mon, Kid. That’s it. Let’s go home, now-”

  
An instant realization. Like a slap across the face. Shouldn’t have said anything about going “home”. Shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have said that!

  
The Kid’s bright green eyes abruptly go so cold and, then, completely blank. He speaks like a little robot. Like he’s been _told_ , **programmed** , to say what comes out of his mouth next, “Go out. Into the water. And, Don’t. Come. Back.”

  
And, he- the Kid, - this precious, too obedient, always hungry for acceptance, sweet Kid-, who had been starting to slowly reach for him… Who was so, so close to safety... Almost, safe in the arms of one who DOES love him… He steps back-

Into empty space-

Plummets.

Instantly, jumping forward. Trying to grab him. Grabbing at empty air. Empty air instead of a beloved little brother.

Shock. Such complete, and utter, SHOCK. Because, he was just THERE.

And, now. Now, he’s not.

Didn’t even- Didn’t even make much of a splash-

Wailing. Wailing from a dark-haired boy too young, despite IQ’s, and life experiences, and all that bullshit… too young to see, to be involved in any of this.

  
“No! NoNoNoNO!!! He was- He was gonna- He was- Did he- Did he hit the rocks?! Maybe- Maybe, he didn’t- Is he- could he be- Just- just down in the- in the wa-”

  
Suddenly, everything is so crystal clear. Viciously, kicking, and busting off chunks of the offending rotten wood. Strengthened by adrenaline and desperation.

  
_NotHimNotHimNotRichieNOTRICHIE._

Have to- Have to-

  
_“RICHARD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!_ ,” Jimmy shrieks. He sounds like he thinks Richard’s lost his mind, “This isn’t the time for one of your fits!”

“No- I have ta' go in- I have- I gotta have space ta' jump out far. If I hit the rocks, I can’t do shit- Fuck- Fuck! Hurry- Hurry-”

  
And, then, small hands are helping him. Pulling away whatever rotten wood he can- There’s no time- no time- The boy is as heedless as he is of the splinters, the blood seeping out and dripping onto the sharp pieces of broken wood piercing into their skin-

Why?! Why hadn’t anyone fixed the railing, yet?! If it hadn’t been so unsturdy, he wouldn’t have been so freaked about just rushing forward and grabbing Richie without having him fall-

Shoulda chanced it. Shoulda just chanced it. Stupid! Stupid!

Jimmy’s saying something. Trying to, somehow, be the clear-thinking, _rational_ one in this situation.

Fuckin’ nerd kids. No wonder him and Richie are best-

  
“-chard! Are you listening? I said you have to start hyperventilating. **Calmly**. So you can hold your breath longer. The water’s pretty deep there, but not that bad-”

“Right. Right. I forgot… Jimmy, you have ta' call for help. An ambulance, or something, alright? NOT anyone from the Church. Not at first. You know what they’ll do., -I’m not lettin' them just write him off-, Tell them they might have trouble gettin' into the compound, so they have to come around from the water. It’ll be okay. I’ll get him. I promise-”

  
Straightening up. Touching the top of Jimmy’s dark head. To give a quick singular moment, an instant, of… comfort? Or, maybe… to gain some courage?

Richie’s best friend looks up. His nearly liquid black eyes meeting Richard’s azure blue. The link casts a soft glow over Jimmy’s face. (Only now noticing how dark it seems out despite how full the moon is.) His dark eyes are wide with such fear. But, also, unmistakably filled with-

With **trust**.

With faith. Absolute faith in him. That, somehow, he can do what seems like the impossible.

And, that’s what’s needed. To push any doubts aside, and just Do. It.

And, go over. Go after the Kid to the sound of Jimmy, finally, **finally** , it seems, reaching someone on the link…

And, **_Jesus_**.

The water’s so cold.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

  
“Richard? Richard!,” Jimmy sounded worried. He had sat up, and still straddling him, was continuously shaking him.

Not too hard, though.

As though, he knew that that would NOT be a good idea.

Richard blinked up at him.

Confused. Lost.

  
Hearing… Hearing that steady, distant, yet, continuous beeping, again. That strange sound that he only rarely heard, but that pulled, _pulled_ at him.

  
“Did you remember something? Richard? You were quiet for so long…”

“Mmm… Remember?…,” he muttered absently, “No… No…”

It’s fading into the background, again. And, Richard gladly helps it do so. Pushing it, forcing it away.

Cause it’s not real. It’s not real. He’s not- He doesn’t _believe_ in any of that-

“Cause I still have your jacket, Richard… And- And, it’s still huge on me, but- I… Richard, I had to hide it, cause one time, last month, when you weren’t with us and we were home alone, Simmons accidently saw it when he was looking for our backgammon board, and he started screaming, and crying, ‘It’s my fault, it’s my fault’, and I know when you… you know… did that thing you do? Like came out, and made him go… to sleep? I know I told you, I didn’t know- didn’t know why he did that?… Why he freaked out… but- I’m sorry I lied! I was… I was scared! I slammed the closet closed to hide it while he was freaking out, and- and I didn’t know how you would… I mean, if he freaked out so bad, what would… what would you do?… But, do you want to see it, now… though?… Maybe, it’ll help you remember-”

Richard's hands were, instantly, squeezing Jimmy’s. Harshly. Warningly. But, he couldn’t- couldn’t find the words. Unable to speak...

  
It. Wasn’t. Real.

  
The other boy nearly panted in pain as the bones in his smaller hands rubbed against each other, “N-Never mind! I- I, um, forget I said that. Richard- Richard, please-”

Richard’s grip eased. He seemed, currently, completely unaware of what he’d even done.

And, Jimmy sighed shakily. He was silent for a long, long moment. Then, he mumbled, “I’m… I’m sorry. Maybe, I shouldn’t keep trying to… It all seems so long ago, anyway… Like it was all some little kid’s bad dream… I guess I really WAS just a kid, back then, but-”

Richard finally found his voice, again, only to retort, “Yeah? Well, goddamn newsflash! You’re STILL a fuckin' kid, Jimmy! THAT hasn’t really changed that much.”

He wasn’t even sure what he was saying. It was like the words were just coming out of him.

“I’m not a KID kid, anymore, Richard. I’m practically a ‘teenager’, now, whatever _that_ means. And, after what we all went through… And, hey! I’m almost a year older than Simmons is, too. You know, the body you’re in. Your bro-”

“ **Don’t**. Don’t you fuckin’ say it-,” Richard ground out, furiously. Sounding… older. Not at all like a pre-teen boy.

  
Sounding like… like Richard.

  
One of Richard’s hands released the other boy’s, and moved up to shove against Jimmy’s chest.

But, not very hard. Especially, not for him. Not for Richard.

“*Sigh* Fine! Fine… I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… Just so tired of pretending that you were never even… I don’t know why they’re making us do that… I don’t know why you and Simmons are just going along with it… It’s… so hard… I’m NOT crazy! Simmons wasn’t always an only child! Maybe, he’s his mother’s only… but- but-”

A tear dripped down Jimmy’s face, down his nose, and fell onto Richard’s cheek. As Jimmy wiped it away, Richard instinctively, forgivingly, turned his head and kissed his fingertips, “Okay. Okay. Jus'… No more. No more, right now, okay?”

And, Jimmy’s released slender hand moved to rest soothingly onto the side of Richard’s neck, “You’re right. We _don’t_ have to talk about it, right now. I know it freaks you out… As long as we’re all still together in the end, I guess… I guess, in a way, it- it doesn’t really matter, right? But… can I just… I just wanna, at least, say that I’m glad you’re here, and Simmons is here… -Well, not right now, but you know what I mean-, I… I thought you…”

And, he sunk down, again. Turning his head to press a kiss into Richard’s inner arm. Using a little bit of teeth. Because… he didn’t even know why. It just felt right.

  
That was gonna leave a mark.

  
Richard leaned unconsciously further back onto the bed, complaining a little weakly, but, still, glad to focus on something else, “Ah, c’mon, Jimmy! This isn’t frickin’ fair. Not only are you a lil' twink, but, now, you’re gonna be a KINKY lil' twink? Shit, man, maybe you jus' been watchin' too much Japanese anime… Yeah, that’s- that’s probably where you’re gettin' all these weird-ass ideas…”

  
Jimmy just hummed at him, following him down, completely straddling him, and kissing his jaw.

  
An' poor Richard bit his lip, and, then, blurted out, not even knowing what the fuck he was saying (Because, Jimmy had to be WRONG. Richard was not- not…), “I think I could go ta' jail for this.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened in shock, and he leaned back, “Wait a minute… So, do you really remem- Do you wanna talk about it- Can we- Can we, please, _really_ talk about it?… Richard! Don’t look away- Don’t ignore me!... Alright, that’s just enough already, Richard! Now, are you ready to really talk about it for real this time, or are you gonna start breaking stuff, like the time before-?”

“There’s nothin’ ta' talk about,” Richard grumbled, “You’re like a frickin’ yappy little puppy. Just _annoying_ , Jimmy. How’s about you- you shut your fuckin’ noisy little mouth-”

  
But, Jimmy was sick of it. Sick of the endless secrets. Secrets that Richard didn’t just keep from Simmons. But, kept even from himself.

  
Jimmy may have been young, but he REALLY wasn’t an idiot. In fact, he and Simmons had first bonded over the fact that they were both smarter than the rest of the kids around them. Simmons came from a family full of people with high IQ’s (While Jimmy was more the exception to the rule in his more normal family.), and he’d even started school early and skipped a grade, which was how they ended up in the same class. They could’ve both skipped (Again, for Simmons.), but they didn’t want to deal with all the testing required to place them in the “correct” grade for their intelligence levels. Simmons never tested well if anything was timed, and even though he knew the answers, he froze up, and Jimmy got distracted daydreaming, because the material was easy and boring, and he ran out of time.

  
Therefore, while Jimmy may have been, technically, a “kid”, he was smart enough to know when someone was obfuscating like crazy. So, he very patiently asked, again, “How old do you think you are, Richard?”

And, Richard, immediately, hissed, “Too old to be messing around with you, Jimmy!”

An offended noise bubbled up out of the other boy, as he started to thoughtlessly argue, “Awh! But, it’s not like you were eighteen or something when it all happened- You weren’t THAT much older than me. I mean, okay, you kinda where, but not anymore, right? I don’t know how it works now since-”

Jimmy fell immediately, and a little nervously, silent at Richard’s infuriated growl. Oh, he hadn’t meant to say that! Or, almost say it, or whatever. He hadn’t meant to be such an insensitive jerk. It’d been years for _him_. But, it was always brand new for Simmons or Richard, whenever, either of them started to… remember something.

Richard always got so freaked out whenever he started to remember, and couldn’t just easily dismiss it like he so badly seemed to need to. And, Simmons couldn’t even remember, at all, without bursting into tears, and, then, Richard getting involved, flipping out, and blocking, and repressing, again. (Jimmy’d learned all about THOSE words, - _blocking, repressing_ -, through all this.)

And, also, it was kinda freaky cause, um… Richard… well, when he got upset, all he wanted to do was hit and _hit_ and **_hit_** …

  
As Jimmy _knew_ this, he was already wincing slightly when Richard swiftly sat up. He hardly had a chance to lean back so their heads didn’t knock together.And, Richard was grabbing Jimmy’s, who was suddenly now straddling his lap, arms in a brutal grasp, his fingers digging cruelly into his soft skin…

His eyes, -Simmons’ normally so pretty, always so curious green-, gone so, so cold. So dangerous… Because, he really and truly, _absolutely_ wasn’t Simmons, right now. And, it was moments like these in particular, sadly enough, that any question left lingering in Jimmy’s mind would truly be washed away. Because, he looked into Simmons’ eyes, and a different, yet, so familiar darker soul looked back at him. 

  
“Why’re you saying that shit, bitch?,” Richard spat out in such fury… it was terrifying to see, “What in the **fuck** do you mean? Don’t LIE, you little _cunt_! I’m breathing, I’m breathing, I’m BREATHING!”

Jimmy gasped in pain as Richard’s grip grew tighter and tighter, but, otherwise, he forced himself to stay outwardly fairly calm, as he managed to get out the words that Richard had told him to say (Simmons really didn’t know, at this point, how bad it could get.) if he ever started to lose control of the dangerous amount of rage that had carried over from… somewhere, “Richard, it’s… i-it’s me. Jimmy. And… you’re-you’re hurting me.” Normally, the words would have been “you’re scaring me”, rather than “you’re hurting me”, but… the sentiment was the same.

  
And, thankfully, it seemed to work either way.

  
“Fuck!,” Richard cried out, instantly, releasing the dark-haired boy as soon as the words ‘you’re hurting me’ left his lips.

There were a few moments of complete and utter silence, where, arms crossed over his small chest, Jimmy quietly rubbed the reddened skin on his forearms, and Richard, though his eyes were on the movement, stared right through him, hands balled into fists as he fought to regain some semblance of control.

  
Finally, after a short period of time that felt so, so very much longer, the tension in Richard’s body eased, and he, tentatively, touched the smaller boy’s shoulder so very gently. And, slowly, he pulled him to him, and enveloped him in his arms, murmuring a bit sadly, “Hey, I’m… sorry, man. I didn’t mean to… I jus' can’t deal with all that… that shit… You know I’d never hurt you, right?... Not you…”

  
“I… I know, Richard… I know…” Jimmy sighed softly, burying his face into Richard’s chest, and breathing in his comforting scent. Him and Simmons always smelled kinda… tropical, and... citrusy. Like coconuts, and lime, and… something else Jimmy couldn’t always put his finger on. Simmons had been using the same body and hair care products and scents for as long as Jimmy could remember.

And, Richard, well… he’d taken to them, now, too.

  
“…Richard?,” Jimmy asked, quietly. Very tentatively.

“Hmmm?,” Richard hummed questioningly into the other boy’s silky raven hair. He unthinkingly, rubbed some of the long strands through his slender fingers. God, Jimmy smelled like cinnamon. It was comforting. Kinda Christmas-sy.

  
Jimmy took a moment before he continued to wonder how- How this had become their lives.

Oh, yes. Someone had told a tranq’ed outta his mind R- Simmons (He _still_ thought of him as Richie, and had to like practically _translate_ it from Richie to Simmons almost every time.) to jump off the pier… Or, more specifically, to “go into the water”, and “don’t come back”…

  
A sad sigh escaped him this time, and he felt Richard pull him even closer. Press his lips to the top of his dark head.

Both of them had their eyes closed, their bodies relaxed against each other…

  
But, Richard was thinking. Thinking about the other boy… He couldn’t help but think…

He was such a sweet, pretty little thing. Amazing forgiving, and understanding despite the strange ideas the Church had implanted into his head. (And, these- these other… other nutty ideas he- he needed to forget about…) Richard wanted to “deprogram” him, as much as Jimmy seemed to want to “save” him. Whatever that meant.

If only he was older…

  
When Jimmy, finally, spoke, again, _finally_ , asked what he’d started to earlier… he sounded a little pitiful, “Do you think… that you could… learn to like me? I mean, like, as a… as more…”

  
Richard pulled back to hold him at arm’s length. And, he gazed at him so piercingly, so _searchingly_ , that the smaller boy couldn’t help but squirm a bit.

  
“Oh, Jimmy. C’mon, man. ‘Learn to’ like you? Why would I even do that? Why would you even SAY that? An', anyway, it’s not like I… Look, I DO like you. That’s not the problem. I like a lot a’ stuff about you. I don’t like these frickin’ weird ideas you have, but… And, I never could’ve got Simmons ta' stop trying to…ya know… not on my own… That- That means a lot to me, dude… Means everything to me… But, it’s jus'… you’re just so small, man. And, young. Maybe… maybe, if you were older, and, ya know, not like the size of a fuckin’ pretty little pixie…”

“Hey! Don’t be sizeist!,” Jimmy pouted and blushed simultaneously, but, then, he murmured, “And, Richard… you… you’re the one that _really_ saved Simmons… You… you… I did try to… I talked to you before… before they took you away, but-but I don’t know if you could hear… * _Sniff_ * Any- Anyway, if I was older, then, I’d be too old for the body you’re in, Richard… If you just want me to be as old as YOU you, uh… If I was just a few years older than I am now then that’d be perfect for you, but too old for, ya know… But, I don’t know… Well… I guess it actually depends on how much older… do you feel like you’ve… gotten… older? In the past two years, or two and a half years, or whatever, since you… since you’ve been with Simmons? Cause if you do, then, that is, uh… hmm…”

Richard’s nose wrinkled in a very Simmons-like fashion... They really had been starting to pick up on some of each other's traits... And, it was so difficult to get used to, sometimes. “Okay, first of all, you aren’t makin' any sense! _Nobody_ jus' ‘takes’ **me** , anywhere. And, second, c’mon, Jimmy, I can do MATH. If you think you know how old I should be, or… something… Why don’t you jus' fuckin’ say it, instead a' playin' at damn riddles n’ shit?”

Jimmy’s eyes rolled dramatically, and he rocked back a bit more in Richard’s lap so he could look him full in the face (His expressions while he was fully in control were still ALL Richard, after all. Well... almost all the time. Except for the aforementioned starting to take after each other, sometimes... deal.) while he complained at him. “Cause I don’t wanna put ideas in your head! You have to know for yourself so you can try to… AND, whenever I do try to _really_ talk to you about this, you flip out, and get mean! You just started doing it, again! And, you can’t do that, anymore! This is your chance to be better, Richard! To turn a terrible thing into something… I dunno… You did so many horrible things before! I know they kinda, well, they DID make you, but… you liked some of it! It was obvious! Even, Simmons knew! That’s just EVIL, Richard!”

“Ah, shut up with that ‘evil’ shit,” Richard sounded annoyed, but, then, just _confused_ , “…You don’t make **any** damn sense! My chance ta' be better at what? Than what? What horrible things? And, reality check, you’re all saying I’m, basically, supposed ta' figure it out pretty much on my own, righ- Ohhh, dude! Like some Indian Spirit Journey, or some cr-”

“You be quiet! Can you stop _TRYING_ to offend the universe!”

“I don’t have ta' ‘try’, Jimmy. It jus' comes naturally to me. Guess I’m really _that_ fuckin’ talented- Oh, yeah, an' guess what? Think you mighta messed up my Spirit Quest, man!,” Richard teased, “You, literally, jus' told me what you think about the age thing an’-”

“…What?... N-NO, I didn’t! No, no, I totally didn’t!,” Jimmy yelped out.

“Yes. You. Did. What? You think I’m an idiot? Between 15 and 17, -dependin' on whether I feel like I’ve ‘gotten older’-, but stuck in a pre-teen body. That’s some _creeeeepy_ bullshit, Jimmy…,” Richard couldn’t help the sneer, “Huh… See that’s one way I  know what you’re sayin' is crap. What ‘god’ would be cruel enough ta' make a dude go through puberty _twice_? I mean, he’d have ta' be a real dick, right-”

“Richard, quit that! You don’t even believe in God most of the time-”

“Yeah, whatever,” Richard’s sneer rapidly turned to a smirk, “But, still. Check me out, bitch! I can math! I’m mathin’ all _over_ the damn place! You impressed or what?”

Jimmy flushed an embarrassingly almost Simmons level of red, and squeaked, “Don’t you- D-Don’t call me that!”

“Call you what?”

“A bi- Ah! Richard! You big jerk! You almost made me swear!... And, oooh boy, if Simmons heard you talking about math like that…”

Richard rolled his eyes and, then, smirked down into his upturned face, again.

  
And, they were, suddenly, smiling at each other without really thinking about it.

  
Until... 

  
Richard went to flick Jimmy’s nose, and realized… Oh. The other boy was still in his lap. And, his arms were still … still around him...

He’d had his arms around the smaller boy’s waist ever since soon after he’d first wrapped them around him. It had just felt natural to slip them down. To loosely cradle the other boy in the curve of his arms... 

  
Before he could pull away because… because that’s what he should do… Right?... Jimmy whispered… It seemed completely out of the blue… “Will you… will you kiss me, again?”

  
And, Richard almost just did it. Over the years, he would come to find it incredibly, and increasingly, difficult to deny him anything. He leaned toward him… but, then, he rested his forehead against the other boy’s, instead, and blew out a quiet breath. “Look. You made a pretty convincing argument with the age thing, but… I don’t… I don’t remember any a' that wacky shit you were babbling about…”

Okay, maybe, that wasn’t _entirely_ true. But, it… it HAD to be bullshit… It just had to.

  
~~But, the Kid, and the pier, and- and the water...~~

  
IT. HAD. TO.

  
“And, I don’t wanna hear about it…”

  
And, that much? Was absolutely true.

  
Jimmy sniffled a little, “I know you don’t… You never do… But, what about… So, you just don’t wanna be with me, then.”

“Shut up, Jimmy. I’m still talking-... Huh... Ya now, I really don’t know why you'd wanna be with me, _anyway_. I’m a fuckin' violent asshole trapped in a kid’s body…”

  
Jimmy didn’t answer verbally. He simply leaned up, pressed a tiny little kiss to the corner of what was currently Richard’s mouth... 

  
And, the taller boy’s bright eyes closed as his arms tightened around the smaller boy.

When his large green (blue- _green_ -NO-blue-blue-BLUE----) eyes opened, again, he continued in a tone that left no room for argument, “If-If we’re gonna do this, there have to be some ground rules. We do what I say-“

Jimmy actually licked his lips and _shivered_ , “Ohhh, I… I like that…”

Richard looked kinda lost, but then he laughed, and shook his head, “Holy shit. Such a lil' slut…" he chuckled a little, before suddenly turning quite serious, "No, I can tell you really probably _won’t_. I mean, if I say you’re still too young for somethin', that’s final, dude. It goes on the back burner til you’re, ya know, a little older. You have to listen to me about this shit… And, if Simmons isn’t cool with this… then, we jus'… it can’t happen, at all…”

“He already… knows I like you…” Jimmy mumbled shyly. Seeming a little embarrassed by the fact.

“Well, how the fuck did I not know, then- Wait…” Richard looked deep in thought, “What the fuck?… He _does_ know… How the hell did he hide that from me?...”

“I don’t know if he really hid it… Did he? Maybe, you just weren’t paying attention to… to that stuff? With all the other things going on… But, um, yeah… He’s known forever.” Jimmy spoke so slowly… but, then, blurted out, “Simmons, he- he used to tease me that- that, maybe, you and me would get married one day when we were all grown up, and then, me and him would be brother-in-laws!”

“Whoa-Whoa. Slow down there, kid,” He could barely resist rolling his eyes at him, again. Richard, honestly, couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. _Brother-in-laws_? What the fuck? He was all over the place… Kinda fuckin’ adorable, though… “You’re too young ta' even _think_ about that kinda stuff-“

  
But, Jimmy had, suddenly, grown very quiet, and he looked incredibly sad.

He chewed the inside of his lip, his eyes getting bright with unshed tears. And, voice trembling, he whispered, “But, everything’s different, now, isn’t it?... And… and, even if- even if we could, somehow, still be together like this, even though… And, even if Simmons is okay with it… The Church would never let us, anyway… would they? We can’t even be together, at all, huh?… I mean, I’m a- a boy, and you’ve always been a-… I think I- I think I got… I got excited, and… and I forgot.”

  
Despite him obviously trying to hold them back, a couple of large tears escaped, and rolled down Jimmy’s cheeks.

  
And, Richard looked at him. _Really_ looked at him. An' aw, crap. He was SUCH a secret sap, way worse than Simmons would likely EVER be… but… He really looked at the other boy. So small, and sweet. Like a little Jelly Bean … Little Jimmy Bean with the long Raven hair.

  
Precious.

  
Too damn young, but, somehow… Richard’s very soul or spirit (Which, again, Richard seriously didn’t even necessarily let himself believe in that dumb shit at fucking ALL...), whatever it was that made him _him_ … No matter how hard he tried to block and repress and deny… it recognized him. Somehow, it was like this smaller beautiful boy was meant to be his… **His**. Not Simmons’, or anyone else's. But his.

And, he always, always would be... 

  
And, Richard was pulling Jimmy roughly to him.

  
Hearing his sharp intake of breath. Feeling his body seem to melt against him, as he kissed him, again and again. 

  
And, again. 

  
Tasting his salty-sweet tears on the tip of his tongue... 

And, he grumbled against his lips, “Jimmy. _Fuck_ the Church.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disgustingly Long End Notes Activate!: Remember, I’ve always said that not everything is as it seems with Simmons and Richard… But, then again, depending on how you’re seeing everything, and the clues you may have been picking up through-out, some things may be exactly as they seem, so… So, that Richard Simmons Senior guy… Have you ever hear of such an arrogant prick in your life? Who the hell names two of their kids after themselves?…
> 
> This chapter, as you got to see more of Richard than ever seen previously, will likely show you why I’m itching for when I can get to when Grif and Richard truly start to talk more directly to each other. (It’s not a secret. It’s in the tags.) The ultimate snark-fest! ;p
> 
> So, anyway, next chapter with Grif and Simmons is very close to being done, but I am determined to move forward, and there are some important points I have to get into in the chapter regarding Grif and Simmons’ particular backstory with each other, some of Grif’s backstory with Kira that shows part of why he’s so possessive/jealous despite not wanting to be, some dark shit (with a slim chance of a possible silver lining) that Simmons remembers about the night Richard lost it, and attacked both “Senior”, and Jimmy’s father, and etc., etc. Which all that is actually typed out, and done, but I still have to finish editing, and tying some things together. As soon as I feel more myself, and less like total crap, and things are a little more figured out, I will get on finishing it up.
> 
> And, uh… what in the actual fuck is going on? Jimmy, obviously, thinks Richard, -the Richard he knew as Simmons’ aka Richie’s older brother-, is somehow ‘possessing’, for lack of a better term, Simmons. We know their father comes to absolutely believe this due to an upcoming incident that’s been mentioned, but will be gone into further detail in an upcoming chapter, as well. Richard seems to refuse to consistently believe any of it, and he won’t let Simmons remember enough of it, or even remember _Richard_ himself, long enough, to truly decide for himself. But, then, neither of them are the type to just believe in any of that “hocus pocus bullshit”, anyway... Could it be that, though? In a world of aliens, and AI’s, and spirits?... Or, could Simmons’ mind have broken, have split from the trauma, thus, creating an Alter in the image of his brother? How does that explain all the things Richard in his Alter form knows that Simmons _couldn’t_ possibly know, though?
> 
> Also, I just want to mention that the tag “Angst with a Happy Ending” doesn’t just apply to Grif and Simmons. Other characters will get their happy endings, as well. But, holy fuck, it’s gonna be a ride, though. For everyone. (Which I’m sure is not surprising considering these tags.) But, it’ll be worth it in the end. So, don’t get sad, and think some things are hopeless. This isn’t that kind of story.
> 
> Please keep on watching out for those Chapter Tags. And, I appreciate the patience, and any well wishes (Frickin’ sicky with horrific luck that I am, I really need them! :P) while I try to get better, and get things figured out. Thanks for sticking with me on this story! Much love! ♡-MissyAnn❀


	16. Thought You Could Get Rid Of Me That Easily, Huh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons felt frustration start to fill him. Grif just didn’t get it! Him with his sister that loved him. That was waiting for him to come back home. While Simmons couldn’t even show his face, again, to the monsters he’d once called a family without getting locked up (If he was lucky.), or, maybe even, fucking disappeared! The closest friend he’d had growing up, and the one his br- the one Richard loved, HAD disappeared…
> 
> “Not- not all of us can just fucking _leave_ when our time is up, Grif!,” Simmons choked out.
> 
> Grif, actually, grimaced at the raw agony, the absolute _misery_ in Simmons’ voice.
> 
> “Baby-,” he started to placate.
> 
> “NO!,” Simmons snapped, “You don’t get it! You don’t get it, _at all!_ Not all of us have somewhere to go, dammit! Or, are even **safe** to go back-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Referenced/Mentioned Blood and Violence, Background Character Death/s, Characters have moments of insensitivity toward other sexualities, and genders, Wait a- Earlier that night: Possible Underage (If 21 is “Underage”.) Drinking? Simmons how the fuck old _are_ you, right now?, Previous Underage Relationship, Switching against Host's Wishes  
>   
>  Hello! It’s been too long, again, I know. But, I have an insanely long chapter to make up for it, and, also, cause… well, screw it! It’s sorta a holiday weekend for some people! So Happy Belated Thanksgiving, and here’s like over 16,000 words! I can’t believe it’s so long, but if I split it up, it’ll just push everything further out. I’ve been working on multiple chapters at once, so next chapter is very nearly done. Things are going to start getting more graphic after this chapter, and especially after the next, so be forewarned.
> 
> ❦ Reminder: Any mentions of Grif and Simmons time together in Basic are purely AU. Themes from S14 are not, as of now, included. ❦ The incident referenced in this chapter that Simmons and Grif went through together while in Basic will be detailed in a later chapter.

**Meanwhile In Lightish-Red Headquarters aka Franklin Delano Donut’s Boudoir…**

  
Smooth, chilly metallic fingers trailing down his spine, tickling his bare skin, while cool synthetic lips pressed against his warm, flesh ones...

Oh, Donut loved when he could get Lopez out of his armor. He wore it so often that some people would probably mistake him FOR an actual suit of armor. But, no. He had the same military-grade armor that they all did, and, thus, of course, he had an actual body underneath it.

Even if his was robotic, and cybernetic in nature...

But, he was _gorgeous_ as far as Donut was concerned. They lived in such an exciting time! Where a robotic man could look so nearly human that they could _almost_ pass for a **_real_ boy**!

Some of them, like Lopez, even had real human hair, -which made the protestors against all non-human forms of intelligence **furious** -, weaved in with the artificial strands on top of their heads. Although, the rest of Lopez’s body was delightfully smooth. (Donut was sooo jealous! Waxing was _such_ a pain in the buttoot!)

But, no matter how human someone like his LoLo could look, there were things, even just aesthetically, that would _always_ give it away.

Like the metallic sheen that showed through his synthetic skin, _especially_ in certain light levels, and his eyes... His eyes were... different. That unearthly _glow_...

Donut brushed his currently messy waves (Lopez was always such a _hair puller_.) of strawberry blonde hair down onto Lopez’s perfectly molded chest...

But, then... he sighed. Melodramatic, and long, as would be expected.

He really was TOO good of a pal... Being someone’s SPTUTO was hard work!

As much as he wanted to keep waxing poetic about his Spanish lover, he... he was distracted...

Maybe, he should just-

[“What are you thinking about doing, now?,” Lopez asked long-sufferingly, “Leave the idiotas alone.”]

Donut propped his elbows up on Lopez’s unyielding chest, and put his chin into his hands.

They were on top of his bunk, and he was lying directly on top of Lopez, naked as a jaybird, with his ankles crossed, and rocking back and forth.

Back... and... forth...

Touching his own behind, then, Lopez’s legs beneath him. Back up to his pretty “bubble butt”, back down to Lopez’s solid lower limbs below him... and so on, and so forth.

“I know, I know. I’m worried about them, too,” Donut sighed, once more, then, he frowned slightly, and asked quite earnestly, no double-entendres, or anything, “DO you think Grif and Simmons are okay? Sometimes, I think I should tell Grif something about... you know... But, I _prooomised_ , though! And, you know, they do say blood is thicker than water...”

[“Cabron. Do not get involved. That one can be dangerous if angered. The broken brother can handle him. Maybe.”]

Donut sat up to look thoughtfully down at Lopez. As if he was seriously taking what he’d said into consideration.

But, then, he bounced happily and much too **hard** down onto Lopez’s luckily, -considering Donut’s exuberance-, metallic pelvis, and grinned down at him.

That bright, cheerful, _sonrisa idiota_ that frustrated Lopez to no end. Because, once again, it meant he _was not listening_.

“You’re always so caring, LoLo!,” he exclaimed, “ _Of course_ , I have to _get in there_ , and Do. It! What are friends for? I’m _suuure_ it’s been hard for Grif to get Simmons opened up on his own! Especially, without even knowing all his weak spots! I’ll go over in the morning, and lend him a helping hand! I DO have a way with these things, after all!”

[“Dulce idiota, you always say the opposite. You do this selective hearing, Si? You understand, and still every time you play games with me-”]

“Oh yes, you’re sooo right,” the strawberry blonde was, very suddenly, purring down at him, “We _should_ play some more while we still have time.”

Donut smiled provocatively down into those mesmerizingly radiant eyes.

And, forgetting about the others, for now, he pulled Lopez’s heavy hand up to his lips, and teasingly licked his tongue over the tips of those so smooth fingers.

He knew very well, by now, where the majority of his robotic lover’s sensory implants were.

Implanted more to optimize functionality out on the field, but... Donut had found other ways to put them to use, “After all, no one’s more fun to play with than **you** , my naughty, naughty robot…”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  


Back In The Chill Zone: 

One Kissass: Status - Awake

One Lazyass: Status - Awake (Surprisingly) 

&

One Potentially Psychotic Partridge in a Pear Tree: Status - Asleep

  
_“…Hey man,” Grif mumbled, slowly starting to continue pulling out the knot he’d been working on. He actually really looked kind of disturbed, “I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking cheater.”_

_Simmons blinked in surprise at how serious Grif sounded._

_He’d just been joking around… He hadn’t meant to make him upset, or something…_

_Shit…_

  
Grif’s eyes closed. No, he… he wasn’t. He wasn’t…

  
Simmons didn’t like that look on Grif’s face. It made him feel… strange. Like he’d inadvertently brought up something he absolutely shouldn’t have.

And, although, his fingers still ran through the redhead’s smoothed out stands, -Feeling so, so good. Tingly, yet, peaceful-, Grif was much too quiet, and locked inside his own head.

And, if anyone knew how dangerous that could be, it was Simmons.

In direct response, the redhead’s hand reached up, as if it had a mind of its own, and pressed to Grif’s cheek. Simmons’ voice was a little unsure, but sincere enough. For him, anyway. “You know what I meant. Like you know stuff, or, uh, figure out stuff about- about me… that can, erm… get me, you know… distracted… and then you win! And, that’s not fair, asshole! Unfair advantage and… And, all that…”

The Kissass was Red Team Red, all over _again_.

And, Grif chuckled lowly, relaxing a little. Or… okay, maybe, a lot. Because, Simmons didn’t know. He didn’t know any of it. And, if Grif had his way, he never would.

Feeling better, he muttered, as he pressed his lips gently to Simmons’, “Oh, man… Everything’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”

  
“N-No,” Simmons breathed, as a shiver ran through him. His arms getting all squished in-between them.

The fingers of his left hand pressed into Grif’s chest. Searching and finding the hard muscle beneath the soft, warm chub. _Mmm_ … (He might be getting too into doing that. Maybe, Richard was right, and he _was_ some kinda chubby chaser- No! That was fucking dumb. So not true.) Simmons’ other arm slid out of the small space between their bodies, and up around Grif’s neck. His fingers curling into the hair at his nape, as he whispered to him, “Not… not _always_ …”

But, Grif was distracted, now. Not really listening. He could really be easily side-tracked… He was busy kissing Simmons softly again and again, his hand sliding out of his hair, -Which he, honestly, had done a damn fine job untangling. So gentle and thorough… Simmons would have to remember that if he ever had a… you know… kink that needed seeing to… (In his hair! In his hair!)- down his neck, his chest, over to his side. Turning his head to press his lips to Simmons’ palm, which still rested against his cheek…

 

“Baby,” Grif murmured the words, in-between moving down to press his lips to Simmons’ neck, gradually moving lower, until he hit that spot, once again, (Typical Grif. He’d found a shortcut, and you better _believe_ he was gonna take advantage of it.), and Simmons _trembled_ underneath him all over, again. But, in a way Grif felt much more comfortable with, “I almost… forgot to tell you… I was _totally_ … right. Donut **did** fuck with me…”

Simmons squirmed, and frowned.

And, Grif moved back up. Pressing his lips affectionately to the Kissass’ cheek, as he grinned a little against his skin.

It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one that was an unreasonably jealous fuck.

Grif nipped Simmons’ earlobe, and ran his fingers feather-light down… only, right then, realizing that, even, though, they were more chill, and getting tired… he was in-between Simmons’ legs, again… And, they weren’t even pressing all hard and hungrily against each other, but… lying together. Comfortably. So close. Again, like this wasn’t brand new, and filled with insecurities, but like it was something… something that just fit. That was simply _right_ in every way.

Gently, gently, he squeezed… his upper thigh this time.

Simmons was so slim. It made Grif want to find, and get his hands on, all the places he had any real meat on his bones.

His ass, and thighs, especially…

  
Simmons couldn’t believe how it felt to be touched by this man. He, literally, didn’t normally feel very comfortable being touched. Sure, it’d been different with Jimmy, but they’d grown up together, been as close as brothers (Or, “Cuddly Sisters”, as Richard would say.) for many years. Which was weird considering the deal with Richard and Jimmy, but Simmons hadn’t been involved, _at all_ , in that part of their relationship so- so…  
  
God, no one had ever touched _him_ like this before. This was very, **very** different. It was- It was-  
  
“ _Mmmm_ …”

  
“Hey, hey, none a that,” Grif grumbled at him, when he caught Simmons biting his lip.  
  
Although, he was unable to keep _completely_ silent, the redhead was obviously trying to keep a moan from escaping his lips. “Don’t damage my goods-,” Grif found himself teasingly scolding him.

Simmons looked and sounded, honestly, baffled as he asked, “Wh-… What-What’s that supposed to mean?”

And, for some weird reason, Grif was, suddenly, saying it. It was, probably, the shittiest way to ask… well, _inform_ , someone about your relationship status. But… dammit… It wasn’t like Simmons wouldn’t tell him to fuck off, whether squeakily or angrily, if he wasn’t up for it… Anybody who knew the Kissass could tell you that… so-

“It means…”  
  
Fuck it-  
  
“…Fuck it,” he, actually, also, said aloud, continuing, “I decided you’re _mine_ , Kissass. So you can’t be all ‘withholding’ n’ shit. That’s not cool, man. I wanna **hear** you singing my praises…,” Grif couldn’t help but snicker a little at his own ridiculously cliché words (It was like: Yeah, you’re MINE, now, purty boy. So drop and spread ‘em, lil’ pardner. Cue: *Spit glob a’ chaw completely missing the spit bucket*). He tried to hide his smirk against the redhead’s throat.

_Annnddd_ , speaking of “cue”, let’s all welcome one very flustered redhead to the stage...  
  
Grif was just _waiting_ for it…  
  
Son of a bitch, he had a real problem. He just **lived** for winding this pretty little fucker up. Here he was trying to cement some- some real shit between them, and he just HAD to rile the Kissass up.  
  
*Sigh* Whelp, you know what they say, ‘It’s the little things in life…’

  
Simmons  had planned on drawling out, _Yours, huh? Well, thanks for informing **me**. I appreciate ALL the input I had in that life changing decision. Hey! And, who the hell says I’m ‘yours’, huh, asshole? Maybe  you’re **mine**. Who’s the one who needs a keeper around here, anyway? Dumbass._  
  
Ya know, just bein’ his typical bitchy self. Even though, his heart was racing, and he was so happy. So, so fucking happy…

But, then, the asshole had said that “singing my praises” thing, and Simmons forgot all of that for the moment, and couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose, and eep out, in his most squeakiest voice of the night, “A-Asshole! I didn’t- I w-wasn’t-! _Jesus_ … Singing-”

  
“Eh. Whatever. Singing, moaning… _screaming_ …” Grif shrugged off the differences, but, then, gave the redhead his most devilish, evil Grif grin, _yet_.

  
And, Simmons blushed **so** hard, from the tips of his ears, disappearing right down into the collar of the “You’re My Royal Bitch, Baby” t-shirt (That he _still_ thought said, “I’m The King, Baby”. Too bad he hadn’t thought to look that up… yet.)… that Grif just had to taste test him, again.

He wasn’t even thinking about eating the food he’d brought. The Kissass was THAT distracting…

But, he just really had to figure this out.

It was like a science project.

Simmons oughta be proud as fuck.

For real, how the hell **did** the nerd go from creamy and pale to Red Team heart attack Red in such a short span of time? It was sorta baffling.

  
Grif peppered kisses onto Simmons’ ridiculously red cheeks, nibbled his earlobe, then, back down to his lips, which were seriously starting to look a little swollen, and fuckin’ _ravaged_.

Both Simmons’ arms were wrapped around his neck, now, and he murmured Grif’s name into his mouth. Not his first name that Simmons knew he hated, and _never_ wanted to be called, although he’d never told him exactly why it pissed him off so damn much, but ‘Grif’.

What the redhead had always called him.

God, the son of a bitch really knew how to get to him…

Grif realized that he had to keep talking to him, because, honestly, he had to do something to keep it together. His self-control was constantly being stretched to its fricking breaking point with this dude.

And, if there was one thing Grif hated, it was ‘self-control’.

Fuckin’ yuck.

Of course, Simmons wasn’t helping, _at all_ , with how sexy he looked, and sounded, and felt…

Shit just wasn’t fair…

Dammit. Grif wondered if, maybe, HE really was the one overthinking everything for once, but, hell, this son of a bitch had been lodged in the goddamn closet for as long as he’d known him…

Always rushing off whenever it seemed like, maybe, something was gonna happen between them…  
  
Well, until tonight…  
  
So, anyway… what had he been saying to the Kissass, again?...

Oh yeah.

Grif pulled up some so he could tell him-

Uh… Something…

Holy fuck. The nerd was seriously so _distracting_. Lips all swollen, eyes so wide, so green… That Red Team Red dusted over his creamy skin… Son of a bitch. To have him focusing in on him so intensely, like… like there was no one else he’d rather be with in the whole goddamn galaxy or some shit…

“… Uhm… Anyway, the deal with Donut... He just got onto me- UHHH- You know what I mean- about ‘getting you drunk’, not **literally** got onto me. Just, he must’ve figured if I was coming for my stashed beer, and you’d been with me… we’d finished what I had stashed in my room, and… yeah, whatever, somehow, that son of a bitch figured out you drank a little, ya know, too much… so, he _totally_ bitched me out about you getting drunk. An’ dude, I TOLD you he’d know… And, um… Hey, Simmons? This ‘Hive Mind’ thing? Is it, uh, really a thing? Cause, shit, just bein’ real here? It’s kinda freaking me the fuck out...”

  
Oh shit.

Simmons had to fight himself to not get all whiny, and, obviously, freaked out himself.

Look, he just could **not** live in a world of collective consciousness. Living with Richard having access to all his thoughts was fuckin’ hard enough to deal with on a day to day basis.

The very IDEA, ridiculous as it may seem, of _Grif_ of all people, having anything to do with that-

Goddamn Richard! He just had to get bored, and decide to start spouting off about shit to Grif, didn’t he? Simmons always tried to tell himself that it was actually good. He was ‘playing nice’. Actually talking to someone (And, not just ‘someone’. But-but… Grif.) without getting violent, and dangerous. He told himself it would be better if Grif and Richard could learn to get along, as, uh… Richard wasn’t always very nice… like, at all… when it came to Grif. Although, strangely, he seemed alright with Donut. Almost acted like he… knew him, or had met him before, or something… But, that didn’t make sense… Weird. And, he thought Sarge was an idiot, but he truly connected with the man’s lust for violence. Eugh.

As for Lopez? Simmons wasn’t too sure what he thought of him, but, sometimes, it seemed like he understood some of what the metallic Spaniard said, and kept it from Simmons...

Well, whatever. The important thing was that Richard’s periodic bored bullshitting with Grif was coming back to bite _Simmons_ in the ass.

  
The redhead looked a little nervous, but he repeated scornfully, “ _’Hive Mind’_. Dumbass. That’s not- We’re not- You just- just… shut the fuck up about that!”

… Seriously? ‘Shut the fuck up’ about it? What an **asshole**. Grif wouldn’t even have _known_ about it, at all, if a certain nerd hadn’t gone on a huge fucking bitchy tangent about it for a frickin’ hour on patrol one day…

Hmmm… come to think of it… speaking of “Asshole”… he had been a little… too pushy… more aggressive and calculated… With less insecure, unsure Simmons squeakiness, and more AssholeSimmons ‘Fuck you, I’m right, and I know it‘ cockiness…  
  
Shoulda known.  
  
Oh well. Maybe, he’d just have to keep a closer eye on him…  
  
But, for the moment, Grif simply nipped right back into that sweet spot on Simmons’ neck, again. Some people would probably say he was overusing the same lazy man’s trick. Maybe, he was. But, oooh, he was _sooo_ gonna take advantage of knowing about that. That’s the kinda knowledge that could get you outta trouble, or distract a suddenly inexplicably paranoid, bratty as fuck Kissass. Just latch onto that spot, and, come on, how the hell could someone remember to be a jerk, or that they were worried about their Asshole/OtherSimmons side, or whatever the fuck, when they were so busy moaning?

He’d never really thought of it before, but that really WAS a good trick to have up your sleeve. He’d recommend it to anyone hooked up with a hot, but _naggy_ , nervous as all hell, dude or chick.

But…

Wait, just one damn minute!

The Kissass was pullin’ his shit, again. Choking off any noise Grif could get out of him… And, those noises… Secretly?... **Fuck** … They kinda drove Grif crazy… He fucking _loved_ them. That Simmons was so sensitive that he could touch him, and kiss him, press up against him… not even **really** getting into the heavy stuff, yet… Not even getting more than a tongue inside him, yet… _Mmmm_ \- Uh, in his mouth! In his mouth!... Ah, fuck… And, the dude was just a squirmy, moany, squeaky _mess_.

But, there the son of a bitch was. Pulling his crap, again. Biting his lip. Trying to be quiet. Even his little gasps, and whines, and _whimpers_ , for fuck’s sake, hardly escaping him. And, Grif couldn’t help it. The Kissass was fucking _hot_ as hell, and he really _did_ want to, NEED to, really hear him, again. Just burn all his goddamn sexy sounds, especially from the first night they were actually doing any of this, -even if it was just gonna be making out for tonight-, into his memory, to never, ever be forgotten.

He couldn’t figure out why, but that just… seemed so, so fucking important for some reason…

But, Simmons was, literally, actually tensing up due to concentrating so hard on being as silent as possible, -for him, anyway-, instead of just relaxing, and enjoying himself like he had earlier.

It was some fucking _bullshit_.

Grif pulled back to look at the redhead, and as he so often did he found himself just blurting out what he was thinking, “Simmons, what’d I tell you? I wanna hear you, you Kissass. Quit holding back on me, man. You made **plenty** of fuckin’ noise, a while ago, so what’s the prob-”

Simmons groaned in mortification, and, then, snapped, “Well, _maybe_ I don’t want anyone to hear me…”

Grif instantly, and involuntarily, flinched.

**_Simmons, you fucking prick_**.  
  
That was the predominant thought in Grif’s mind, now.

And, he was glaring down at the pretty redhead (Maybe TOO pretty, huh? Maybe, _too_ pretty for some decent-looking, but not exactly fit or motivated nobody like him, right?), “What? You don’t want anyone to know you’re here with me, huh? Is that it? You want this all hush-hush? Well, _too fuckin’ bad_ , asshole. **Donut** knows, _Simmons_. And, once he knows, **every-frickin’-body** knows. So, fuckin’ _sorry_ this doesn’t get to just be a dirty, _nasty_ little secret for y- OW! Fuck!”

Simmons had pinched his ear. Hard as hell, too.

“You- You shut the hell up, Grif! Don’t you twist my goddamn words. It’s-It’s just embarrassing! Nobody wants to be heard all… _you know_ …,” Simmons hissed, self-consciously, “…by other people!… We’re not exactly _alone_ here, dipshit!… There’s _other people_ around us, **you idiot**! I know not too close, but- but still…”

Now, the redhead was getting extremely flushed, and flustered, “You must be nuts! You want me to just go ahead and, uh-uh… be- be –Goddammit. Fuck!- _noisy_ when Sarge or Donut or, hell, even, _Lopez_ could walk by, and- and speaking of Lopez, of **Donut** , you _know_ you can hear him over half the Base when he’s- when they’re, um, so…” Simmons got very, very quiet, “…Anyway… Maybe, I wouldn’t care so much about it if… maybe if… if, um… we were somewhere… where it was just…  it was just us…”

Simmons looked away. Embarrassed. Unsure.

And, Grif lifted his chin. Making him look at him. He couldn’t help but think about what a couple a’ wacky fuck-ups they both were…

“ _Hmmm_ … Just us, huh… You’re _blushing_ , again, Baby. And, I bet I could get you to be WAY louder than Donut,” Grif grinned at him, but, then, he couldn’t help but wince as he distractedly rubbed at his ear, and complained, “…Fuck, Simmons, that actually really hurt!”

“Good! You shouldn’t say such dumb shit, you- you dumbass!,” Simmons scowled up at him.

  
But… he couldn’t keep up the bitchy persona. He felt terrible when he thought that Grif had believed for even a second that he’d just… treat this thing with them so shittily. Like it meant absolutely nothing.

That was fucking _bullshit_!

Simmons couldn’t help but move up, as he pulled Grif back down to him, to press his lips softly, soothingly to the other man’s.

Just… just sinking back into each other…

So relaxing.

Simmons actually did, once again, make a sound much like a purr… He was so content, so _calm_. It was completely outside the realm of his experience. To feel like this.

If Richard had been around, and up to explaining it, he would have told him that this was what it felt like to be loved by someone outside your circle. Someone who had no prior ties to you that formed the bond, but had chosen to _forge_ a bond with you…

But, Richard didn’t talk like that… not, not anymore. Not since he’d, in whatever form or fashion it had happened, lost his Jimmy.

At least, Richard, in that moment, seemed happy for the first time in longer than Simmons could remember… actually resting almost _serenely_.

And, that peacefulness bled over to Simmons some, despite his desire to stay separate. Especially, at such a time.

After all, it was Just Them, at the moment. Just Grif and Simmons. Simmons and Grif.

Just Them…

And, Grif thought HE had to worry about feeling jealous. Paranoid and possessive.

It made Simmons almost think to get anxious, but before he truly could, Grif, as if he sensed Simmons’ troubled thoughts, grumbled against his lips, and Simmons sighed quietly.

Grif pulled him up, as he moved back onto his side, so they were, once again, lying side by side, face to face, as they had been earlier that night. Their mouths never broke apart during, and right after changing positions. Their grip on each other only tightened.

Simmons’ arms encircled more securely, even more possessively around Grif’s neck, while his body clung closer to his. And Grif’s lips pressed harder, his tongue searched deeper.

The little rumble that the Hawaiian made tickled the inside of Simmons’ mouth, and more than told him Grif was pleased. Proud of him for chilling out, and letting them have this time together, instead of freaking out, as he’d done so many times in the past, and not allowing them to get _anywhere_ with their… whatever this thing was with them.  
  
  
When they pulled apart this time, much later… seriously, it was ridiculous (And, pretty frickin’ awesome, in a way.)… Who the hell made out this much outside of High School or Junior High? Neither of them would really know… Simmons barely stifled a yawn. His eyelids were starting to look seriously heavy. 

Grif had his fingers in Simmons’ bright red hair. ( _Again_. No shit. He, probably, really had a problem. Like some kinda kink, or some shit. But… hell, it was their business, no one else’s, so… fuck it…) 

“You gettin’ tired, Baby?,” Grif murmured, kissing Simmons’ eyelids, that had fluttered shut, as Grif had been running his fingers through those bright strands of hair. Practically lovingly _petting_ the sleepy little nerd…

Simmons hadn’t napped through-out the whole day like Grif had, after all.

“ _Mmmm_ …,” Simmons just hummed in reply.

“Okay… but you gotta eat something first, alright?,” Grif went to pull him more securely to his chest. To give him a little cuddle, before he made him wake his ass up enough to eat a little something… when… he thought of...

“… Simmons?”

He couldn’t help but sound kinda anxious even though Simmons was resting so peacefully in his arms.

“Hmmm?,” the redhead murmured questioningly.

And, Grif’s hand spanned the side of Simmons’ neck. His thumb rubbed underneath the redhead’s chin, and tilted it back up, so Simmons was looking drowsily at him.

He wanted to… He wanted to tell him… Just say it. Tell him… tell him he loved him. Lock it down. It wasn’t really a thing he took lightly, or would ever just say. It was hard for him to even _think_ of saying it. It didn’t come naturally to him, no matter how he felt, or had felt for a while, now, about Simmons…

He was fucked in the head about this stuff. He was self-aware enough to know that. But… he wanted to make sure Simmons _knew_ what the fuck he actually meant to him.

So, maybe… maybe, he wouldn’t… maybe he’d be less likely to get any crazy ideas about Grif not giving a fuck… and… he didn’t know… he wasn’t even really sure what he was so worried about… Simmons wasn’t Kira. He wouldn’t run off, or… Of course, it had never even occurred to him that Kira would do that- Still, him and Simmons they- they were different. It was like they already WERE together, and had been, and always WOULD be, and…

But… he remembered… remembered what she’d said…

_“Because, You. Don’t. Comm-u-ni-cate! You can’t expect someone to just automatically know what you’re thinking, or how you’re feeling, Dex!”_

Goddammit… Yeah… he got that… he still didn’t like what she’d done, and couldn’t see it as a legitimate excuse to… whatever… but…

And, fuck… when it came to the Kissass… it probably seemed _way_ too soon to even be thinking about all the things that were swirling through his mind, but… he knew damn well what could happen if shit wasn’t clear on both sides. And, he sure as hell couldn’t rely on some “Hive Mind” bullshit… And… was it _really_ all that “soon”?

If you’d seen how… how it’d been with them… for so long… day after day after day…

Even back in Basic...

Fuck.

And, he didn’t know why he said “ _even_ back in Basic” when the truth was… the only time they’d been even close to as _physically_ close as they were, on this particular night… HAD been back in Basic... with Simmons wrapped so tightly, so securely in his arms…

Although, with how fucked in the head they both were after what they’d witnessed that day, though they had both been able to keep pretty level-headed about it all through-out the higher-ups questioning… and the clean-up...

Grif had ended up trying to mentally block out that whole night… A real Simmons move on his part he knew, but, seriously… even the part with Simmons clinging to him, as he’d held the redhead so close… had been fucking upsetting as all hell to remember in the morning light, because his arms had been depressing empty of any precious Kissass nerds.

Who, honestly, seemed to have had, somehow, completely repressed the whole last 24hrs…

And… and, it’d, also, sucked cause… cause he’d known that Simmons wasn’t really ready for this deal with them to actually go anywhere, yet…

This deal with them… that was already a thing all the way back in Basic…

But, maybe… maybe they would’ve gotten there. If they’d had more time. Things definitely changed between them after all that. They really had gotten even closer.

They’d been goddamn inseparable by the time Grif got yanked from Basic, -and that had happened pretty goddamn quickly-, after the “incident”-, and obviously, _punished_ with his station. Months after the deal with that Jackson prick, and he was still willing to bet it had had to do with him… Not that he thought they knew what the hell was _actually_ going to happen there, but still, it was a fricking terrible, dangerous place to be stationed, and- and…

But, fuck, that night… in Basic… they’d still been together… Him and Simmons, and… it’d been so… so fucking insane. So freaking terrifying.

And, then, they’d been alone.

After such a goddamn nightmare.

Just the two of them.

Finally, completely… alone.

How… how could Simmons have made himself forget…

How could he…

 

**Basic: Grif and Simmons Back In Their Barracks**

  
They’d kept their shit together… until they were dismissed from questioning.

Relieved from training for the rest of the evening.

It was the least those fuckers could do, considering what they’d had to see. What they’d survived through, no thanks to those asshole’s incompetence.

Grif couldn’t help but think that maybe, if everything was on the up and up in this fucked up private sector run joke of a military establishment, then this shit wouldn’t be as likely to go down…

But, yeah, they’d- they’d kept it together… But, the second they were alone, in their empty barracks… everyone else running last night drills as if nothing had just happened…

Simmons had marched almost angrily to his bunk, pulling his armor off as he went.

Earlier, he’d, actually, shown some spunk and rebellion by refusing to speak to anyone until he and Grif had gotten to put their armor on.

To think… to think that… that they’d been armorless when it had happened. If that guy had turned toward them, really noticed them…

Grif was, also, taking off his armor in front of his own bunk. His hands fumbling, and fucking up as he, -as he always did-, pulled off his helmet first.

He genuinely couldn’t help or stop the tremors. He was starting to get the shakes from the adrenaline dump. And, the fact that it was _over_. And, the idea that they… they at least… the two of them… were both alright. (The only two he **really** cared about. Not that he’d _wanted_ the other guys to… to- But, the Kissass… him and the Kissass, they were the ones that were his priority. The ones he actually gave a fuck about.)

Thinking back on that, and how fucking helpless he’d felt because Simmons had _been there_ , and, truly, Grif’s top priority, -immediately, with no thought involved-, Grif knew his top priority was to _Get Simmons Out_ , to get them **BOTH** the fuck out of this in one piece.

That was more important than anything, or _anyone_ else.

Period.

It had really tied his hands, because all thoughts **had** to be of retreat. And, sure, fuck it, -personal full-disclosure, and all-, he could be a pussy, sometimes, and consumed with his own self-interest, but…

There was something, inherently, _wrong_ with the idea of him just _letting_ something like this go down without doing anything to try to prevent it. But- But he HAD to keep the Kissass safe… it hadn’t just been HIM… just Grif there by himself…

Simmons was…

But, would Grif have actually tried something if Simmons hadn’t been there? Despite all his apathy, and lethagy- These were people’s goddamn _lives_ for fuck’s sake…

He’d like to think…

But, he, honestly, didn’t know…

He was thankfully distracted from his possibility misplaced guilty thoughts, when Simmons spun back around, only in his undersuit while Grif was still struggling with getting his hands to work right, and only had half his armor off.

Simmons was still on edge. He hadn’t come down from it, yet.

And, he’d rolled his eyes at Grif, as he started to stride, all edgy, jerky movements, toward him.

But, he stopped before he’d fully reached him. Instead of coming any closer, he stiltedly asked the Hawaiian man, his voice very strained, “Can’t you ever… do… any-damn-thing?”

And, Grif reflexively flinched back. As though the words had been a brutal physical blow…

Although, he knew what Simmons had meant, those words… they hit too close to his tumultuous thoughts...

He’d done… nothing… fucking _nothing_ … A usual happy state of being for him, but… this…

This…

Simmons, immediately, looked sorry, and slowly, he shuffled the last few steps forward, and came to stand in front of him.

“Hey,” his pale hand moved up to rest lightly onto Grif’s unarmored chest, -Grif’d managed to get his chest piece off, at least- and he’d tilted his head down to look into Grif’s face…

Even back then, Grif hated how goddamn tall this bastard was in comparison to him… Although, yeah, fuckin’ _fine_ , maybe, it was kinda sexy… Those long, slender legs… That lean, just so slightly muscled, trim body… just on the side of too slim… The thought of him wrapped around him… fuck… But, still. Him being taller, _usually_ , it just fuckin’ sucked.

Simmons’ hand had pressed more steadily against him. Obviously, feeling Grif’s still erratic, too rapid heartbeat underneath his palm.

And, then… for the first time… Grif would never forget it… even before their separation, and the… the massacre… and the PTSD “episodes”, Simmons was rubbing these… soothing, comforting… gentle, firm little circular patterns into Grif’s chest… It was like he wasn’t even thinking about it. As if it was completely instinctual … Firm enough for Grif to feel through his undersuit, gentle enough to feel as though his fingers were tenderly massaging into the bare skin beneath it…

He’d never touched Grif like that before…

“I didn’t mean-… dammit… just let me help you, dumbass,” Simmons murmured. But, gently. So, very gently.

He’d never _talked_ to Grif like that before…

It was a side of him that Grif had never really seen. Although, he’d only known this incredibly two-sided man for a handful of months at the time… But… still.

And, for a little bit, Simmons seemed to focus on so carefully taking off the rest of Grif’s armor, while Grif focused on the feel of Simmons’ steady hands, as he tried to still the tremors in his own.

It wasn’t until the redhead was actually on his knees, pulling off the last piece of the Hawaiian man’s armor, a lower leg section that he hadn’t gotten off himself, that Simmons’ calm, reliable fingers had started to tremble as well.

It came on quickly.

His head bowed.

His breathing, suddenly, sounded forced. Fast and loud…

And, he squeezed Grif’s right knee a little frantically a few times in quick succession.

Grif, tentatively, (Soothingly? Maybe? He didn’t know…) touched the top of his head. Smoothed his hand down-

But, Simmons seemed to force himself to let go of him. To stand.

And, he walked, more unsteadily then Grif had ever seen him, to the alcove where they temporarily stored their armor.

But, after setting down the last piece…

He just stood there.

Head down.

Facing away from Grif.

Finally, after what felt like half an hour, but was probably less than a minute, he whispered, “Why?”

Grif didn’t answer.

Hell. He didn’t know.

“…Not why-why’d he do it… I-I actually… get that… Sometimes… people… lose it… but why- why didn’t he have blanks like- like the rest of us? It was- it wasn’t supposed to be a live- a- a live exercise, so… Who gave them to him?… How did he have- _How_ , Grif?! Fucking tell me!,” Simmons started out stilted, sounding panicked, and almost hyperventilating. But, by the end he was nearly snarling.

At the goddamn _floor_ , for fuck’s sake, but… well… Ya know… This WAS Simmons, after all.

Grif just shook his head, and sat heavily down onto his bunk. He felt… _he_ , who always had a snarky reply, or at least, at least SOME kinda reply, actually felt at a loss for words. But, after a moment, he heard himself, tiredly, say, “I don’t- I don’t fucking… * _Sigh_ * Come here.”

He glanced up to see Simmons looking back at him over his shoulder. Appearing incredibly unsure.

And, Grif sighed, again, and patted a spot on his bunk beside him, “Come on, Kissass. I don’t got all night. I’m fuckin’ tired. Quit bein’ a puss’, and come the fuck over here.”

Just as Grif had planned, that made Simmons’ already patented signature scowl creep across his features, and served to momentarily distract the redhead from his distress. At least, long enough for him to, hesitantly, make his way over to stand by Grif’s bunk.

Right in front of him. So, Grif had to look up to see his face.

“Dude, don’t just stand there,” Grif grinned, a little weakly, up at him, “Sit down, man. I don’t bite. Well, ya know, unless you want me t-”

“How the fuck can you joke around, right now!,” Simmons instantly snapped, glaring furiously down into his eyes, “After what- what happened… What happened- Nobody- none of us had our armor. Why didn’t we have our- our…” His left eye twitched, and he scrubbed shaky, suddenly, damp hands against his thighs, as his voice lowered, and trembled. Getting so quiet, as if he was imparting a hell of a big secret, “…A-And, you always forget… It’s-It’s weird- so weird how you forget until… until BAM there it is- so much, just _everywhere_ , you know? People- people have **so** much b-blood in- in them… So much… So… much… Did you see- Did you? Grif? Did you fucking SEE all the bl-”

Goddammit. The way he talked… You’d almost think it actually wasn’t his first (Or, second, or third…) time seeing… something like this…

“Simmons,” The forced smile faded from Grif’s face as he cut off the other man’s incessant, fear-filled babblings, “Stop it. Of course, I fucking saw. I was there, wasn’t I? Now, Come. The. Fuck. Over. Here.”

And, Grif was leaning forward, snagging Simmons’ slender wrists, and pulling him to him with more determination then he’d ever done such a thing.

He would, normally, be more languid in his initial approach, but this… this was different.

He had no ulterior motives-

Well…

None, other than just getting his hands on Simmons. Feeling his heartbeat and the comforting rise and fall of his chest against his as they took each and every breath…

Surprisingly, Simmons didn’t squeak or squeal, or even squawk, although Grif, -when faced with no resistance to having pulled him forward to stand, uncertainly, between his thighs-, pretty spontaneously, -especially for him-, took it, uh, a bit further.

Wrapping his arms around the redhead’s slim waist… and, laying back onto the bunk. Pulling Simmons right down along with him to lay fully atop him.

And, Simmons must have really still been in a strange state of mind due to the events of the day. Because throughout the change in position, a small, startled grunt was the only sound that escaped the normally easily excitable redhead, before he pulled up, an arm on either side of Grif’s head, to look, hesitantly down at him.

And, in that moment, Grif really seemed to have no self-control. He wanted to just… It wasn’t much… Couldn’t he just…

And, his hand reached up… and he was touching his pale skin. Cupping his, at that time of the evening, surprisingly smooth for a man, cheek.

Not speaking for once. What the hell was there to say at a time like this?

After what had happened…

And, Simmons was sinking down to rest his forehead onto Grif’s chest as the Hawaiian’s fingers, now, ran feather-light down his undersuit, down his back…

But, then-

Very abruptly, very muscle in Simmons’ body seemed to tense up, and Grif shivered because… did something feel… different? Odd, all the sudden… No… he was just still messed up from earlier. Still coming down from such an intense adrenaline rush, and-

“Please, don’t,” Simmons whispered, almost pleadingly, “Not now. Just… not now…”

And, Grif almost let him go. After all, he had to be talking to him, right? They were the only two people there in the room…

Right?

Of course, they were.

And, yet-

There were moments, like this one… quick, singular, particular moments, where it sure as hell didn’t feel that way.

But, regardless of all that, right as Grif was about to reluctantly release him, -because, of course, at this time, in this moment, he believed Simmons was talking to him-

Simmons’ whole body seemed to let out a quiet sigh, and he relaxed. Practically sunk into what had, suddenly, turned into a… a fricking real _embrace_.

Like outta one of Kai or Kira’s sappy romance novels that they’d always left around the apartment.

Freakin’ so cheesy n’ lame…

But, what the hell could he say? It’d been said before, but it almost couldn’t be stressed enough. There had _always_ , and would always be, something different between him and Simmons. Especially, whenever they were alone. Something you couldn’t exactly put your finger on.

And, maybe… fuck… maybe… you didn’t want to. It’d, probably, just fuck it all up, somehow.

And, you know, you always hear talk about people having sex after traumatic experiences, but that was absolutely the _last_ thing on either of their minds. They didn’t make out like in a movie, either.

Or, even kiss…

Well, maybe that wasn’t _entirely_ true. Grif did press his lips to Simmons’ forehead a couple times. And, alright, _maybe_ Grif’s lips had brushed over Simmons’ hair a time, or two, or three, as well… as Simmons had laid in his arms, his face buried into Grif’s chest, their legs entwined… but… they had just fucking needed, so fucking badly _needed_ to be near each other. To be wrapped around each other…

Together.

Safe.

Grif couldn’t say how long they laid there.

Silent.

Just wrapped up in a world of them two. Of Just Them. Holding onto each other. Each soaking in the reality that the other man was truly still _there_. That they were safe and unharmed.

And, together.

Simmons curled up against him so perfectly…

And, after quite a long while of this quiet brand of comfort, Simmons had, finally, fallen asleep in Grif’s arms. In his bunk with him.

And, later, when they’d come in for lights out (Which Simmons had slept right through.), and knowing all the f’d up shit that had gone down… none of the other recruits had quite dared to say a word about it.

Which Grif was so grateful for. More for Simmons’ sake than his own, to be honest.

But, still, when Grif woke up the next morning, he found that sometime in the early dawn, while he’d still been asleep, Simmons had snuck out of his bunk.

Perhaps, he shouldn’t have been surprised, but…

Grif didn’t even know how the fuck he’d done it without waking him… They’d been holding each other so close, so tight…

He knew Simmons hadn’t left his bed during the night, as Grif had woke up again and again in the dimly-lit room with a sick burning in the pit of his stomach. And, the compulsion to reassure himself that the redhead was still safe in his arms. That he hadn’t- that he was- just that he was still alright.

And, every time that he’d woke to find him there, -unharmed, still with him-, something inside him that had been ripped asunder when he was much too young to understand such things, knitted slowly back together piece by piece.

Bringing him, although, he had no way of understanding this at the time, ever slightly closer to whole.

But, in the morning light, Simmons was back in his own bunk, and it seemed like he, somehow, insanely enough, didn’t even _remember_ what had happened the day before.

And, considering how soon after that Grif had been sent to his Training Base, and how much they both sucked at talking about the shit that really mattered…

After that night, they’d actually never talked about what had happened in the locker room on that particular too warm late afternoon.

With that recruit.

And the live ammo he shouldn’t have had.

The cruel teasing and bullying that he’d put an end to in the most final of ways.

That there’d been five of them that had gone into the locker rooms, and only two, he and Simmons, that made it out…

No, Simmons didn’t seem to… let himself remember? Grif hadn’t understood what exactly the deal was with Simmons at that point. So-

So, yeah. They didn’t talk about it…

They-

Fuck- that was their problem, though, wasn’t it? From day one. The more important it was, the less they talked about it. The more they bullshitted, and bantered, and bitched.

Even when it ruined them, over and over.

And, over again.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  
So… this… this was actually the second time Simmons had slept in his bed with him. But, with what had happened, the freaking _circumstances_ surrounding the first time… And, the fact that Simmons didn’t even seem to _remember_ what had happened. The fucked up tragic deal, OR the night they’d spent just wrapped in each other’s arms… all night… it didn’t feel like a situation you could gauge anything off of.

Other than that they both pretty obviously felt closer to each other than they admitted out loud, as they had automatically reached out to each other, and after what happened, they’d had that whole underlying ‘we only really want to be together, and fuck everyone else’ vibe going on.

Even if Simmons didn’t remember how or when that’d come about. And, even if he, sometimes, actively fought against it….

He, ultimately, couldn’t stay away from Grif anymore than Grif could stay away from him…

 

“Grif,” Simmons was looking into his eyes, looking quite a bit more awake. He was smiling a little, but, also, looking kinda uneasy, “You’re- you’re being like me. Zoning out, n’ stuff… What’s wrong? Is- Is s-something wrong?”

_Did you change your mind about me? Did you remember how fucked in the head I am? How… How there’s something wr-wrong with me? Do you want me to… t-to go?_ -

Grif broke into Simmons’ frightened thoughts. He didn’t tell him what he’d wanted to say before he’d gotten lost in his memories of that night back in Basic… Didn’t declare some Japo Anime Love Confession… but…

“…Simmons, listen…,” he spoke slowly, as if trying to make sure it was clear, that Simmons _understood_ , and believed it. Hell, maybe that he, himself, did, too…, “… it won’t always be like this. I mean, we won’t be stuck in this shithole forever… We were in Basic together so we’ve- we’ve got the same amount of time in…”

Simmons was looking a little confused, and Grif continued, “You know, you were saying how… it isn’t just us, but… our four years’ll be up at the same time, and we, uh, we can, ya know, we could get our- our own… What? What’s wrong? _What the fuck, Simmons_?! Getting the fuck outta here’s not supposed to make you _sad_! Look, dude, no matter how much you kiss Sarge’s ass, I **know** you didn’t choose to be here anymore than I did! I don’t understand how the fuck that happened, but… Will you… Do you wanna talk about… will you just tell me, already?”

  
Simmons winced. He hadn’t realized he’d been so transparent (Or, was Grif really able to read him that well? At least, when he was _trying_ to…).

The redhead HAD gotten very sad at the realization of just how trapped he was. He had nowhere else to go, he was in fucking _hiding_ here, apparently…

And, he didn’t know what they’d do to him and Richard if they could get their hands on them…

Son of a bitch.

Yes. It was Richard who had enlisted them… And, Grif was the only person who knew. Well, knew that Simmons hadn’t chosen to do it himself, anyway.

In a strange way, it was all coming full circle. But, this time was different, and for the first time, Grif was actually calling him out on the ‘not enlisting himself’ deal that, in a fit of anger and frustration, Simmons had let slip.

Grif’d let it slide before, and Simmons had tried to convince himself that he’d forgotten about it… but he should’ve known better. One thing the redhead had learned quite some time ago was that Grif rarely _actually_ forgot.

Especially, if it was something to do with him.

Grif seemed to be able to retain information astoundingly well when he wanted to. He had surprised Simmons quite a few times with nonchalantly recalling things the redhead had said… remembering things he’d said he didn’t like to do, or watch, or eat, or things he DID like… Like the deal with the Reese’s, and Grif remembering that was Simmons’ favorite. It had to have been back in Basic that Grif had off-handedly asked about what the redhead’s favorite candy bar was… Although, _technically_ , Reese’s wasn’t exactly in a bar form. I mean it _could_ be, but he preferred the Big Cups, and Grif had even remembered THAT.

Was it weird that that kind of touched Simmons AND, uh… turned him on? Ummm… come on! It was just sorta… it felt like a big deal that Grif would have been bothering to remember the things he said. And, even, sometimes, when the Hawaiian had seemed like he was totally ignoring him, or half-napping through Simmons’ just talking to talk, like he did, once in a while to relieve tension when he was feeling nervous… sometimes…

It turned out that Grif had actually really been listening...

Or, at least, half-listening.

Retaining, anyway.

Like he gave a damn, or something… Because, Grif would never bother with that, unless, he did… It was kind of embarrassingly touching.

But, Simmons didn’t just get the good. Of course not. That wasn’t how life worked.

Grif didn’t only remember the things Simmons wanted him to remember, or didn’t mind him remembering.

No.

He, apparently, remembered what Simmons had most hoped, and convinced himself, he wouldn’t.

Simmons, still, couldn’t believe he’d been so goddamn _sloppy_ about the whole enlisting thing. That he’d let his emotions get the best of him to that extent. And, about something so important. Something that could unveil the truth behind it all.

Hadn’t Richard _told_ him how important it was that they not be recognized in any form?

Although, Simmons had to say that he was frankly pretty annoyed (He tried to convince himself he was ‘annoyed’, rather than fucking terrified), and he had two prevalent thoughts on the issue.

One, how would someone outside the Church, someone that wasn’t, or hadn’t been, affiliated with the Church he’d, _they’d_ , grown up in, ever recognize them? He knew their father was a really big deal in the Church, but outside of it… not so much.

Richard was just being paranoid (He hoped. But, then, he really hadn’t been spotted, yet…)

And, Two, Why in the hell did Richard basically use their real name! If he was going to pull their hacker stuff without Simmons’ help (Even though that was more HIS specialty! Richard just NEVER let him help!), and get them in when they'd really still been 17, he could’ve _at least_ enlisted them as something better than ‘Dick’ Simmons. Fuck! It was too damn close. It really, practically, WAS Simmons’ real name: Richard Simmons III. So, Richard had just dumped the Third, and named him a terrible, _embarrassing_ name that Simmons had never been called _in his life_ … Nice. He might as well have officially changed his name to ‘Richie’ if he was going to do such a shitty job hiding their real name. At least, then Simmons could’ve… could’ve been known by the only other name he’d… he’d… been called in his life, other than ‘Simmons’… Right? Was that… Was that right?...

God, but Richard had been so _out of it_ when he’d done all that. In a fog. He’d, also, been damn sloppy. And, that wasn’t like him…

And, in turn, Simmons had been careless, as well. Getting angry, and accidently telling Grif… But, had it really been an accident? Or, had he subconsciously, been so desperate to trust someone, again, and… you could call Grif a lot of things, but when it really came down to it… when it _mattered_ , you could… could trust him… But, then, if Simmons really thought that, he hadn’t done, and, currently, wasn’t doing, a very good job of trusting him, was he?

And, now, there they were, all this time later, and Grif was watching him silently, but steadily. Holding, _cradling_ , really, the side of his face, now, in the palm of his large hand. The other pressed to the small of his back. So sweetly, but…

Like he wasn’t going to let Simmons wiggle outta this one. He hadn’t gotten the response he’d wanted when he talked about them getting outta the service together (And-and _being_ together. Was that- that what he’d been saying?), and he, obviously, wanted to know why… And, he was focusing in on the enlistment debacle…

Simmons felt frustration start to fill him. Grif just didn’t get it! Him with his sister that loved him. That was waiting for him to come back home. While Simmons couldn’t even show his face, again, to the monsters he’d once called a family without getting locked up (If he was lucky.), or, maybe even, fucking disappeared! The closest friend he’d had growing up, and the one his br- the one Richard loved, HAD disappeared…

“Not- not all of us can just fucking _leave_ when our time is up, Grif!,” Simmons choked out.

Grif, actually, grimaced at the raw agony, the absolute _misery_ in Simmons’ voice.

“Baby-,” he started to placate.

“NO!,” Simmons snapped, “You don’t get it! You don’t get it, _at all!_ Not all of us have somewhere to go, dammit! Or, are even **safe** to go back-”

“Simmons. Quit it,” Grif shut him up. Kissed him over and over to just shut him up. Roughly pulling him halfway overtop him, as he pressed Simmons’ slim body down flush against his own.

Grif should’ve listened to the rest of what he was saying. He knew that later. It was something that would always bother him. Fucking haunt him. Another thing to keep him up at night. 

To think that, maybe… he could have heard it, maybe even it ALL, all the way back then, from _him_ … At least, he could’ve heard some of it anyway… instead of having to end up hearing it secondhand from someone else in such a fucking tabloid fashion…

If only, instead of getting Simmons to shut up, **he** would have shut up, and listened a little longer...

After all, it was when the redhead was upset, that he let the real shit come out. Maybe, it _really_ ALL would’ve come out…

And, also… later, after the ‘sleepover’, and after… so many other things… it really would still eat at him. Thinking about how that night he’d almost told him that he loved him. How for just a moment, he’d come so close to quitting with all the constantly emotionally stunted bullshit. With calling it “chick feelings” like a prick, because he was too pussy to deal with it. With how fucking confused and freaked out he was about feeling something so _real_ , so _strong_.

Like he’d never felt before. Not like this…

Fuck… maybe… maybe, if Grif would’ve had the balls to tell him that, Simmons would’ve trusted him enough to tell him what the fuck was going on right then and there.

And, maybe, everything could’ve happened differently…

But… there were always maybe’s and what if’s.

Kira’d been right. She’d told him one day he’d “really” love someone, and he’d know the difference. Between loving someone, and _being in love_ with someone. At that moment, he did know, but he was still too immature, and lost about it all. Still too afraid of being rejected to take a chance.

But… there was something else… he couldn’t **stand** Simmons saying he had nowhere to go. Like he was a fucking so lovely, but lost pet with no home. It was DISGUSTING. How could anyone… Simmons was a pain in the ass, sure. But, he was smart, and a fuckin’ funny goofball when he’d ever chill out, which, true, wasn’t often, and, yeah, he really WAS a nerd, but didn’t rich-ass parents like that shit?

Cause, _yeeaaah_. You better believe, Grif _knew_ Simmons came from money. No one could be that picky, and prissy, about the food put in front of them unless they’d never had to worry about there being any, at all. Or, they’d never had to scrounge to figure out how the fuck to put food on the table...

Simmons broke their kiss this time. Resting his forehead against Grif’s. Not opening his eyes.

Before he could speak, Grif told him, very matter-a-factly… It just popped the fuck outta his damn mouth, but, son of a bitch, he mother fuckin’ _meant_ it, “Wherever I go, you go, Got it?”

  
And, Simmons actually whimpered, as he buried his face down into Grif’s neck.

Fuck. He was such an emotional weak-ass wreck, but-

Nevertheless, he wanted that.

So goddamn much.

But…

He struggled to put it into words.

“You… Grif… you, really, don’t know me that well… There could be… terrible, messed up… just strange things about me… that you… don’t even know… You could… you could end up really h-hating me,” Simmons mumbled, his voice breaking on that word. The thought of Grif actually truly hating him… (Like… like his father had.) turning on him... (Like his mother had.) It was horrifically painful.

I-I don’t want you to hate me, the redhead cried out, internally, but… I… I don’t want you to hate him, either.

  
Grif looked at him. Rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down his long, lean back.

And, he thought.

He thought about this deal between them that neither of them could ever put into words…

He thought of how much they BOTH sucked at “communicating”…

And… And, he thought about Simmons’ OtherSimmons/AssholeSimmons side that they never really talked about… cause hell, speakin’ of “communicating”, as said before, if there was one thing they both really did fuckin’ suck at, it was actually talking about the shit that _mattered_ …

And, it seemed that wasn’t going to change any time soon, as Grif couldn’t seem to help but nuzzle into Simmons’ hair, and tease, “ ** _Ooo_** , a real man a mystery, huh? That’s some spooky shit, dude. You gonna kill me in my sleep, or somethin’?”

Simmons snorted softly, and Grif felt him start to relax against him, again, “Shut up, dumbass.”

“Look, man,” Grif went on, “I know plenty about you.” _Maybe not everything, but, probably, more than you think_ , he thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he assured, “Anyway, you’re fine…,” but, then, he was smiling craftily at him, “… you’re _very , super_ fine. Right, Simmons?”

“No! Stop- Idiot! Don’t- Don’t make fun-,” Simmons kept his face buried down under Grif’s chin, into his neck to hide his embarrassment. Had he- Had he actually said something like that? Curse Grif, and his fucking amazing memory!

Before Simmons could say anything else, he felt Grif’s hand cupping the back of his head, pressing him close. He thought that, maybe… maybe, he was just being affectionate or something, but, then, Grif was softly asking, “Hey, Simmons?”

And, when Simmons tried to pull back to look at him, he wouldn’t let him. He just pressed him even closer…

Of course, this made Simmons a little ornery, so he started to huff irritably at him-

But, then, Grif was continuing… In such a stilted manner that Simmons who, sometimes, felt like the crowned King of Social Awkwardness, had to shut up and take notice…, “Simmons,” he tried, again, “You wanna, uh… hang out, or… some shit… tomorrow?”

Simmons found himself frowning into Grif’s neck in confusion. Hang… out…? Wasn’t that what they were doing, right then? Wasn’t that, -when it really came down to it-, what they did like every single day? What precisely did Grif _mean_ -

“Asshole,” Grif cut into his musings, “I can actually _feel_ you overheating and melting your fucking brain. I mean… C’mon, dude! Don’t make me have to say every-fucking-thing- Fuck it. **_You_** know, and _**I**_ know, that you have to have pre-planned every mother fucking thing into your goddamn day-planner to ‘count it as a successful endeavor’, so-”

Simmons squeaked very loudly, and completely wordlessly.

  
(Such a pretty wittle mousie.)

And, Grif released him by sheer instinct. After all, a little mousie (Why’d he keep thinking of him in those terms? Like a… fucking _pet_ , or something? This dude was bringing out some strange kinks in him.), rather pretty or not, could have sharp teeth. Simmons had already proven that to be true…

But, he really couldn’t spend any more time thinking about that, at the moment, as Simmons had pulled back, to hover over him, all wide eyes, and flushed cheeks, to stammer, “’Su-Successful endeavor’… G-Grif! Are you- you talking about _scheduling_ in us having- uh… you-you know…”

“Pfft. Nooo…,” Grif rolled his eyes, but… then, looked up at Simmons a little uncertainly, “…Maybe?,” He could swear he’d said that to the Kissass before, in some form or fashion… Whatever. He went on, “Look, man. This **is** YOU, I’m dealing with here. I’m trying to… I dunno… work with you, or some crap… I guess…”

“I can’t believe- Would I p-pencil that i-in- or-or…,” Simmons seemed to want to sound snarky, but he just sounded _nervous_.

“Ah, c’mon, Simmons. We’ll just hang out n’ see what happens-”

And, if the _possibility_ of them doing something was already on the table, Simmons could be better mentally prepared, and more able to actually do it… Right? Made sense to Grif-

“Griiifff! I can’t- I’ll go cr- fucking nuts between now and then!,” Simmons cried out, smacking weakly at Grif’s chest.

That made Grif smile teasingly, and start to pull him back down to him, “Want me that bad, huh?”

“NO!,” Simmons yelped.

Well, THAT got Grif to stop pulling him down on top of him to frown at him, instead, “Well, fuck you too, asshole-”

“SHUT UP! You’re, YOU’RE the asshole!,” Simmons demanded resolutely… but he still covered his face with both hands, and lowered his head to burrow into and hide in comforting Grif man-boob like a total pussy, “It’ll drive me up the wall if I KNOW exactly when we’re going to-to, uhhh… and-and, then, how can I get _anything_ done if I’m worrying about THAT, and-”

“Yeah, yeah. Still pretty sure _you’re_ the **asshole** in this scenario, though, Simmons,” Grif muttered nonchalantly into Simmons’ hair as his fingers trailed down his spine.

Simmons shivered. Fuck. What was that saying? ‘Just between us pigeons’? What’d that even mean? Well, whatever the case, just between himself, and those flying rats? He, uh, loved the feel of Grif’s hands on him… Oh, wait… it was _chickens_ , not pigeons-

And, then, Grif _chuckled_ to himself like he thought Simmons didn’t _totally_ get what he’d meant by his whole ‘ _you’re_ the **asshole** in this scenario’ thing, and he hadn’t just been distracting himself because he was... Well, shit! He was nervous, alright! HE hadn’t done… anything… other than what he and Grif had done so far, and-and…

But, damn that bastard! Simmons wasn’t THAT naïve, anymore, dammit! Just cause he hadn’t, _personally_ , done… ya know… a lot of things… didn’t mean he didn’t KNOW about them!

But, despite that, despite the _knowing_ , that didn’t really help his nerves… And, the thought, the very THOUGHT of hours upon hours of squirming uncomfortably in his armor…

Physically excited, but mentally freaked out of his mind in nearly equal degrees...

He’d blow a frickin’ fuse!

Seriously, even thinking of it got him SO insanely nervous-

And, panicked-

And… anxious…

And-

Oh, SHIT! And, he was a goddamn IDIOT!

Because what precisely happened, here or there throughout the day, but nearly _always_ happened without fail when he tripped the fuck out way too frickin’ hard? When he let himself get overwhelmingly anxious?

Let’s all say it together, boys n’ girls!

Well, hi there, Richard!

Yep. Sure, enough. Simmons forgetting himself, and his particular situation… and, getting so incredibly worked the hell up, had caused Richard to _wake_ right the hell up.

Although, he wasn’t really entirely awake, so to speak. And, consequently, his mind was way more open to Simmons than it normally was.

But… the good news was that, despite Simmons being a bundle of nerves, the atmosphere must have still proven to be chill enough to keep Richard in his relaxed, peaceful state of mind…

But, WAIT! Scratch that whole that being good news thing!

Cause the atmosphere, was, also, uh, a little… ya know… And, with how incredibly sensitive Richard, in particular, seemed to be to certain sounds, and, even tastes, and… scents… and considering that there were probably still, erm… S.E.X. pheromones from all of Grif and Simmons’ kissing, and nipping, and biting, and _pressing_ all up against each other… pr-probably they were still hanging over them like a heavy, _thick_ … cloud, and-

Holy hell. Simmons wasn’t sure he was making sense, anymore.

But, whatever the case, Richard, who was STILL so out of it, who still, obviously, thought Grif was Jimmy… Fuck. He really WAS losing his marbles. What the hell did the two of them have in common other than dark hair that wasn’t the same shade? And, both being shorter than he and Richard (But, Grif was still a few inches taller than- than Jimmy!)… And, both being naturally _lazy_.

Alright. THAT was a common point. But, that was it!

Regardless, Richard, who really, normally, wasn’t Grif’s biggest fan, seemed to still be lulled, into, um, well…

Oh, no. This was not good. This was not-

[Richard, don’t you fucking _dare_ -” Simmons tried to forcefully demand within the privacy of their head, “Richard! Dumbass! I’m HERE, and we’re not with- he’s NOT-”]

But, Richard wasn’t paying attention. He seemed… stoned or drunk or- Shit. He’d taken on the physical repercussions of the booze, hadn’t he? That’s why Simmons didn’t really feel it, at all, anymore.

Fuck!

And, Richard had already been fucked in the head from the deal earlier, too!

On top of the sensitivities to certain things, Richard, also, had strange physical reactions to a lot of things. He could nearly get wasted on _cough medicine_. Which was odd, as Simmons was SURE he didn’t used to be like th-…

But, what was Simmons thinking? There was no “he didn’t used to be”. That didn’t make any sense.

R-Right?

Oh, his head was a fuckin’ mess. But, he couldn’t think about that, now.

He had more important things to worry about.

Like why, WHHHY, was Richard so much stronger than him?! So completely able to take over whenever he damn well pleased-

Like, right then! At that very moment! Completely taking over their physical body- But, being distracted enough to have mostly blocked out Simmons, so Richard thought he wasn’t, currently, around, BUT not actually having done whatever he usually did to send Simmons -elsewhere- away…

Goddammit! Simmons’ consciousness was like a bird locked in a cage. Flitting about in search of an opening…

And, he felt Richard shift a bit up, all while settling more heavily down onto Grif… Knees moving up, so while his (their!) head might have still been resting on Grif’s chest, they were, now, basically straddling him, or in Richard’s point of view, holding him down.

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Did Richard just _have_ to bring him and Jimmy’s kinks into this… misunderstanding?

  
Grif had felt Simmons shift. Such a slight movement in the larger scheme of things, but it was like… like his entire body was, suddenly, speaking a different language.

Shit, that sounded so lame, but it was TRUE!

As someone who grew up raising Kai, who LOVED the ancient Disney octopus witch villain cause she said the line that, according to Sister, was her adopted (And, oft-repeated, -hip-rolling, booty shaking n’ all-, God have frickin’ mercy on his soul.) motto: “And, don't underestimate the importance of ‘ _body language_ ’”…

Yeah, he’d heard it enough to freaking GET. IT.

Simmons wasn’t simply on top of him, anymore, he was _on top of him_. Hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt like he was planning on actually _ripping_ it off of him. Pressing rough, but steady, and… could you say _assertive_ when talking about kissing?... kisses up his clothed chest, up to his bare neck-

_Too_ unexpectedly confident. _Too_ naturally dominant.

Not, at all, like Simmons.

Without any of the underlying sweet submissiveness, and naiveté that came out, sometimes, when they were alone. Without an inkling of that inexperience and just raw innocence that mixed perfectly together with his hunger for knowledge and perfection in all his “endeavors”, and hidden underneath all his bullshit bitchiness and asshole cocky smart-assedness… That when added all together secretly drove Grif crazy, and made him wanna watch out for him, and just make him _his_.

And, then… there was the way Simmons had looked up at him when Grif had had him underneath him. Those big, bright green eyes seeing nothing but him. Like there was no one else he could ever want...

Where was any of that, now? Where was HIS Sim-

“Hmmm… Missed you,” the man atop him nearly growled into Grif’s ear.

And, Grif’s heart fucking sunk.

Cause that was not a sexy, cute Simmons growl.

And, in that very moment, for the first time, before he blocked out the thought, and refused to accept it for a while longer, Grif _truly_ realized and had to acknowledge that that was NOT Simmons’ voice, at all.

Yeah, he realized it was Other-, better known as, AssholeSimmons alright, and, sure, sometimes (MOST of the time.), he sounded similar to the nerd, -like he was using a Simmons voice modulator, or some shit-, but, other times, like right then… he sounded like an entirely different person that just happened to be borrowing _His_ Simmons’ body.

Not like just another side to Simmons himself, but like his own separate-

Grif was about to say something… something… to him. Fuck knows what… But, he had to say some shit, cause this felt… different.

Fucking crazy good, yes, but…

Wrong.

Like he was with someone else.

But, as he opened his mouth to speak, Grif was taking in a startled, strangled gasp of air, instead, as AssholeSimmons started biting marks into his neck. Much rougher than Simmons or he had used their teeth on each other. Not actually breaking the skin or anything, but… what the hell was going on… it was undeniably hot, although, considering the situation, Grif didn’t want to admit that. Oh, but, it _was_ **intense**.

And, all while his fingers, those long, slender fingers, whispered over his skin, and into his hair. So gentle, so soothing in the wake of every possessive sharp mark nipped, and bit, and sucked into his skin… you’d almost have to call it _tender_.

In such stark contrast to his mouth and teeth on Grif’s neck, his shoulder, beneath his chin...

The whole thing was so aggressive, yet, strangely sweetly passionate… but, also, rife with such... familiarity.

And, a different kind of familiarity than the one that always surrounded Grif and Simmons whenever they took any step forward in this… thing… they had with each other.

Grif couldn’t seem to get a word out. He’d start to say something, then, stop. Try again. Stop.

This AssholeSimmons dude didn’t seem to find that odd at all. But, totally normal.

He was completely in control. Completely confident.

It was a total mind-fuck.

Grif’d say the fucker was trying to _seduce_ him, but it so DID have that underlying familiarity that translated into the feeling that… that the dude was simply doing something he’d done many, many times before with someone so very preciou-

Wait! What the fuck did that mean!

Grif’s so-hated, yet, uncontrollable jealousy was about to spike _thru the goddamn roof_ , when AssholeSimmons, -Oh, it was SO him. Grif was **beyond** sure of it… But… he was still… Simmons… in a way… Right? Or… but, how could he not be…?-, muttering something too low to be heard, but in a tone that was undeniably persuasive, and just so _not_ Simmons, BIT down onto Grif’s collarbone. Harder than before, and Grif gasped all startled n’ crap, sounding like a total fucking _chick_ …

_Jesus_. This was just getting _embarrassing._

  
Holy shit. Simmons had to wonder if THIS was where he’d picked up the biting. Was there some subconscious kinda ‘this is normal foreplay’ thing in the back of his head, because Richard and Jimmy had been secret kinky sons a bitches? So, Simmons had had all these subliminal messages that had told him that this was how it all works?

And, Richard had **dared** to yell at HIM about biting Grif earlier! That seemingly kinky (More than seemingly when you considered the images that were flashing through their head at the moment. The biting was SO the tip of the iceberg. Ah, _geez_ …) son of a bitch had no right to talk!

Simmons was, somehow or another, blushing like a fire hydrant _in their frickin’ head_.

So bizarre.

But, he wasn’t just embarrassed.

Oh, no.

He. Was. So. Pissed.

He knew Richard was fucked in his (Their? Dammit, this shit really could get confusing.) head, at the moment, but he needed to get the hell off Simmons’ guy, right NOW. Because Grif was HIS, and Grif _wasn’t_ Jimmy, and, sure, Richard had strange reactions to things, and it seemed like the booze had got to him, somehow, -Typical Richard. Instinctively taking on everything. Like Simmons was such a _child_ that he couldn’t even handle being drunk, or the inevitable (But, not for him! Not with Richard around to shield him from _everythng_.) hangover-, but STILL.

What was wrong with Richard that he was THIS mixed up?

Simmons was _trying_ to get through to him, but Richard evidently couldn’t hear his distressed thoughts, and he really, honestly, had no clue Simmons was even THERE, at all.

Although, Simmons could certainly hear _his_ thoughts.

Thoughts Richard was right about to let spill out of THEIR lips into GRIF’S ear!

And, in that familiar, yet, seldom heard voice that Richard rarely let himself use (But, he already had- He already had! With the ‘Hmmm… Missed you’ thing…)…

Holy… whoa… Richard wasn’t shielding his thoughts even a little bit, and Simmons could really hear him…

[ _Raven… my good boy… Fuckin’ want you, sweet baby… Love you so much, Jimmy…_ ]

FuckFuckFuck! If he said those things out loud to Grif…

And, in that voice…

No, no, no, no! And, Hell, No!

Richard was running the flat of their tongue wetly, teasingly, over Grif’s adam’s apple, and-

-This was NOT happening. This HAD to be a dream-

And, Grif went to raise his hand up to touch their face.

But, then, Richard was, instantly, moving. Grabbing, manacling Grif's wrists, one, then the other, and so rapidly shoving them, holding them, down beside the other man's head.

Grif grunted a little in surprise, and went to move up... Then, he was looking kinda dazed, like he couldn’t wrap his head around this… but, worst of all, underneath all that, he seemed almost… _thoughtful_ …

Because, Richard, that idiot! He’d just up, and gave away one of their secrets! One of the things that made them, **obviously** , different than a regular oddball. He’d leaned slightly more forward. _Truly_ , and effortlessly pinning Grif down.

And, Grif let out a little, slightly confused groan. He appeared to be sorta blown away by the so sudden _evidence_ of the switch.

And, look. Grif WAS strong. Could he break free? Sure. But, he’d have to actually truly exert some _effort_ (Sure you can imagine how interested he was in doing THAT.), and the Simmons he had always known just simply DID NOT have this amount of physical strength. With his build, he didn’t even seem physically _capable_ of having it…

Oh, great!, Simmons thought, And, now, Grif had to be wondering, -maybe only absently, at the moment, as he was a bit… distracted-, about how the hell Simmons could, at times, be physically stronger than other times-

Distracted. Yes, he was quite distracted, wasn’t he?

Simmons wished he could slap the hell outta him. How big of an idiot was he! Was he just going to go along with this? Did Grif think Richard was simply going to _let_ him fuck him? Or, um… you know… that he’d… ride him, or something?

Simmons wanted to shriek at him, _Richard isn’t ME, dumbass! If anything, he’ll try to fuck YOU!_

And, then, knowing Richard, he’d, likely, start to strangle him when he _finally_ realized Grif wasn’t his beloved little Jimmy who, let’s be real here, when Simmons could actually start to _remember_ things? Was absolutely the only one Richard wanted to be with, -and loved with a fiery, insane fervor-, at all.

Richard’s head was so filled with _Jimmy_. And, it was so embarrassingly filled with memories of weeks, and months, and _years_ of painful, beautiful, forbidden love, and wild, hot, pretty damn kinky in Simmons’ opinion, secretly lust-filled days and nights... And, all it needed was weeping violins, intertwined with a sexy porno soundtrack-

And, it was RICHARD, and Simmons’ old childhood best friend JIMMY, and the things they were doing were none of Simmons’ business (That’d been the agreement! He didn’t want to really know anything about all this!), and-and-and get him outta these memories, already, before he was scarred for life!

Oh no, and, now, Richard was about to like **really** kiss Grif. On the _mouth_. And, Simmons couldn’t tell you why that was SO much worse, but it just WAS. This all seemed to be happening in slow-motion, but it was, actually, progressing at a pretty decent pace…

And…

Simmons had no choice. He didn’t want to, but it was the only way. When Richard was this unreachable…

It wasn’t that it was HARD. But, just…

Risky.

And, he piped out, _out loud_ , but mother fuck, _Fuck It_ , “Hey, yeah. _W-We’re_ hanging out, right? So, remember to be fair, and, ya know, uh…”

And, it was so _frustrating_ to not get to just SAY it.

WHY couldn’t it be like it had been back with Jimmy? (Of course, considering Simmons refused to tell Grif the deal with Richard, that was probably his fault.) Where it was just not that big a deal.

Cause had this happened before? Richard being out of it, and pulling some crap? But, back when it’d been Simmons and Jimmy hanging out (Although, _much_ more innocently.), rather than Simmons and Grif?

I mean, maybe… sorta…

Oh, fuck it. He couldn’t lie to himself worth a shit.

Of course, it had.

At Jimmy’s Residence: In The Years Prior…

  
Simmons might not have been, or wanted to be, involved in that part of their life together, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been… incidents… Cause fine. Maybe, Simmons was just secretly, -so, sooo secretly-, a cuddly ass son of a bitch by nature. (But, literally, only with one, -well, okay, TWO, now-, people in his entire life. He, strangely enough, _really_ didn’t want anyone else touching him, in general...) And, sometimes, him and Jimmy had just curled up together, and watched a movie, or told secrets…

Holy fuck. Richard was right. They really HAD acted like a coupla sisters...

But, anyway, every once in a while, Richard had started to wake up, and half-asleep he’d pull something like this.

Saying something that was… you know… ( _Mmm… Raven… Comere_ … ) and running their hand over to his hip… _squeezing_ , and starting to pull him closer… Oh for fuck sake, so goddamn embarrassing. But, Simmons had, instantly, been able to react, to SPEAK, because it hadn’t been a secret with Jimmy, and- and it had never gotten this far. Not even _close_.

Cause Simmons would just roll his (Suddenly, their) eyes, and bitch at him, right out loud, -it seemed like it had to be out loud in a time like that for some reason-, saying things like, “Richard! Go back to sleep”, and “Quit being such a you-know-what”, and “Me and Jimmy are hanging out, right now-”

To be fair, despite the oddness of the situation, it really hadn’t taken much more than that.

And, Richard would hum tiredly… sometimes, he might brush his ( _Their_ , at the moment, but Richard was, apparently, still too outta it to realize that.) lips over Jimmy’s temple, or cheek… Sometimes, he’d take his hand, and press a sleepy kiss into his palm… and, _sometimes_ , he’d even lowly murmur, “Love you, sweet baby”… but, then, he’d simply go -not elsewhere- back to sleep.

Still very, very close, but resting.

And, Simmons would look at Jimmy, and state, “He’s SUCH a cheesy perv.”

Jimmy would giggle, and murmur (more to himself than Simmons it seemed) something along the lines of, “You have no idea…” but, then, in answer to Simmons’ inevitable “Ewww”, the smaller boy would, blushing, declare, “But, I like it.”

And, Simmons would wrinkle his nose, announcing to the room at large, loud and clear, “ _Gross_ ”.

And, then, _of course_ , they’d have a giggly slap fight, because, Jesus Christ, they really were a couple a’ girly-ass-

❇ ❇ ❇ ❇❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ ❇ 

  
Or… they really HAD been a couple a’…

*Sigh* Oh, great. Now, on top of everything, he was starting to get all depressed.

What an emotional rollercoaster of a night.

But… it DID work, though. Although, Richard seemed grouchy about it, he sighed in annoyance, relaxed his grip on Grif’s wrists… then, slowly, released him. He couldn’t seem to refrain from leaning back to pat Grif’s (Jimmy’s, to his mind…) upper chest affectionately, though.

Poor Grif was looking up at him (them) with the most lost, what the actual fuck? look on his face…

And, Richard sat up on Grif’s soft belly-

All Simmons could think was-

How! Hooowww! Simmons thought it in such intense frustration that Richard was, nonetheless, completely oblivious to. Simmons decided that “Dream Grif”, or whatever, had been right. Richard _wasn’t_ very sane, anymore. He HAD to be close to the edge. (Why wouldn’t he just TALK to Simmons? Stop trying to hide everything… And, let him help! Simmons wanted to HELP!) How could Richard _possibly_ mistake Grif and Jimmy? With how lean, and small, and like a fricking beautiful china doll, -even Simmons had to admit it, and he would’ve felt sorry for him, if he wasn’t pretty sure that, unlike Simmons, Jimmy liked being so girlishy attractive-, or a “pretty little pixie” as Richard had teasingly called him, at times… With how Jimmy had always been so small-boned, and slight… and short, even compared to Grif… How could Richard… What?! Did he think he was sitting on a goddamn pillow, rather than a lazy man’s pudgy tummy!

Richard cut into Simmons' tumultuous thoughts as he muttered grouchily to them (In _his_ voice, in HIS own voice!), eyelids heavy and so sleepy-looking, “Well, don’t take all night.”

But, then, he grinned a little, and, he _stretched_. Body ridiculously languid, and relaxed.

  
Grif couldn’t take his eyes off him. Goddammit. He was so fricking hot, it was almost absurd. Even _hotter_ cause… to see that too pretty face, and that so sexy body all chill… He wished…, -in that singular moment, secretly, for the first time, SO fucking getting it, that His Simmons and Other/AssholeSimmons were SO separate, like two different people, somehow sharing the same body-, he just wished he could see _His_ Simmons like that…

He could see the _second_ it was entirely His Simmons, again. He saw the Kissass have what, practically, amounted to a whole body flinch, before his shoulders slumped, and he rested his hands, shakily, down onto Grif’s chest. Plucking a bit at his shirt. Looking down at his fidgety hands, and refusing to meet Grif’s eyes.

Grif saw his own hand come up to span Simmons’ side, his ribcage. He hadn’t realized he was going to do that. And, he, seriously, didn’t have a clue what to say. But… well…

He realized he was blinking a little too much. All slow, and continuous like he was goddamn shell-shocked or something. Which was fucking dumb… It… hadn’t been that big a deal… I mean, it wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with-with… Other/AssholeSimmons… But, never like THAT.

Holy fuck. And, now, he felt _guilty_. Like he should’ve said something… Been the one to stop it…

Simmons shifted nervously on top of him, “I… I n-need to go… I should g-”

“Simmons. Stop that shit.” His voice was harsh.

But, son of a bitch. He had no patience for that bullshit. He really couldn’t give a fuck what crazy crap Simmons (And, AssholeSimmons.) threw at him at this point. He could deal. As long as they… were together…

But, there was Simmons. Wanting to run the fuck away like a goddamn pussy whenever things got hard-

“Comere,” And, Grif was leaning up some to wrap his arms around his back, and slowly pulling him back down on top of him. Holding him so very tightly. Too tight for him to escape…

Feeling him tremble in his arms.

Simmons still keeping his face a few inches away from him.

His beautiful green eyes so wide, so… so _afraid_ …

And, Grif was cupping a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer…

And, pressing their lips together, again. Feeling Simmons’ lips quiver against his. And, he was whispering, “Kiss me, Simmons.”

Purposely saying his name. Because it was _him_ he wanted. Maybe, he’d gotten a little caught off guard by… by that whole deal. Maybe, even a little turned on… Which was a trip cause he’d never been the switching type. But, regardless, that son of a bitch had KNOWN what he was doing, and… Grif was going to have to think about what the fuck that meant exactly… AssholeSimmons seeming all “experienced” or… just not like His Simmons. He wasn't sure about the implications of that…

But, fuck it. It didn’t matter, right now. Well, it DID, but… not as much as getting this thing with him and Simmons figured out. He wasn’t going to just let it all go to shit, cause of something (This weird as hell deal with AssholeSimmons.) that he’d basically already pretty much known about…

His lips traveled all over Simmons’ face, and as he nibbled away at his ear, he found himself asking (Cause, man, this would be so much easier if he could understand exactly what the hell was up…), “So you’re gonna tell me, now… Right?”

He was, once again, in total denial about just how f’d the situation really was. But, he couldn’t help but feel that if it was all out in the open, they could figure everything out.

  
Grif’s words were SO damn close, almost _identical_ to what “Dream Grif” had said that Simmons let out a frightened little cry, and swiftly sat back up on Grif’s lower belly.

Just to pinch the FUCK outta his own forearm.

“Ah-ow!,” he cried out. High-pitched and surprised, as if even he hadn’t expected himself to do it.

“What the- no pinching, dipshit!,” For once, Grif was the one exclaiming the words, and he wasn’t even the one doing the pinching. Weird, “Why the hell did you-”

“I’m trying to see if this is still a dr-,” Simmons started to answer quickly, but, then, blushing, he cut himself off.

“A dream? Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?,” Grif’s brow, which was furrowed in confusion, suddenly cleared, and he smirked playfully, “You been dreaming about me, hmmm? That what had you all worked up when we were messing around earlier?”

Simmons’ mouth dropped open.

“N-No!,” he sputtered.

“Don’t believe you, dude-,” Grif started to tease, but he fell silent at the look of absolute unadulterated FURY that was creeping over those pretty features.

“Simmons, chill-,” he started up, again. Much more cautiously this time.

“NO!,” the redhead yelled it this time, enraged, as he slammed his fist down onto the bed beside them, “I’m not gonna ‘chill’! Nothing’s chill! You-you aren’t ever supposed- supposed to kn- FuckFuckFUCK! I bet you LOVE this! More shit to fuck with me about-”

“Jesus. Come on, man. It’s cool. I got _plenty_ a’ stuff to fuck with you about already… So… ya know, some stuff… we can just keep to ourselves, or… whatever.”

  
Simmons stared down at him. Breathing heavily, looking like he was unsure of what the hell to do, now.

( _Because Grif can’t know… He can **never** know_!... Why had Richard done this! And, now, there he was, _sleeping_ , again. Enjoying the peaceful, soothing rest of the blameless… Asshole!)

  
Grif gave the fuck up, and sat the fuck up. Just grabbing ahold of Simmons, and holding onto him as he scooted them over to the edge of the bed. The Kissass was about to _really_ lose his shit, and Grif had other, better plans. Nicer ways they could spend their time.

“St-Stop! What- Why- What’re you doing? A-Are you kicking me out?,” Simmons stammered, going from angry to upset within mere seconds.

“Just shut up, Kissass. We’re eating, already,” Grif grunted, reaching out to pull the picnic basket, of sorts, closer.

“Eat-Eating?”

You’d think he’d never _heard_ the word.

“Yeah, ‘eating’. What?.” Grif grinned easily at him, “Thought you could get rid of me that easily, huh?”

“ _Easily?_ But-But, I-”

“C’mon, Simmons, quit being such a pain in the ass,” Grif scowled. He didn’t know about Simmons, but as far as HE was concerned? It was the perfect time to forget about all the stressful shit, stuff his face, and take a goddamn nap.

“I-,” Confused by the turn of events, Simmons turned to what he knew… and pouted, “I’m not hungry.”

“Hey, bitch. Don’t make me hold you down n’ stuff your ass-”

Oh, the nerd got SO squirmy, and Red Team Red, in his arms. Grif frowned a little in confusion… then, realized what he’d said… oops…, “Uh, that’s not what I meant…,” But, he couldn’t quit with messing with him. If he was gonna have to deal with such odd-ass crap from Simmons, the Kissass would have to just learn to deal with Grif’s irrepressible mouth, “I mean, that’s for tomorrow, right?”

“T-Tomorrow,” Poor Simmons was just clinging to him, frozen in shock at this point, still in his lap with his hands fisted weakly into Grif’s shirt, now, “You- I don’t under- you still want to- with ME?”

“Why wouldn’t I?,” Grif asked, curiously, brushing Simmons’ shiny hair back out of his face.

“Why wouldn’t-,” Simmons was obviously flabbergasted.

“You just gonna keep repeating me, or you gonna eat?” Grif raised a dark brow in question.

“I-I ate. I don’t need a second dinner. I’m not _you_ , Grif,” His words might’ve sounded snarky, but his voice was meek, “I want- I just wanna go to sleep.”

Before Grif could protest that he hadn’t ate shit. Not for a grown-ass man. He wasn’t a mother fucking _kid_ \- Simmons continued uncertainly, “D-Don’t nag me… I have so much to do in the morning! And, if we’re going to… to, uh… um, spend time together… tomorrow n-night-,” Grif had to cut him off to kiss those, once again, ridiculously red cheeks.

“Sure you don’t wanna bite or two?,” Grif murmured, running a hand up the Kissass’ slim thigh,- just below where his boxers fell-, that wasn’t covered in fabric, but, instead, creamy skin, and so pale, hardly noticeable soft hair, “Doesn’t seem like you to turn down peanut butter-”

  
Simmons shivered slightly, then, smacked Grif’s hand away. The dumbass just **laughed**.

But, Simmons wasn’t amused.

They had an itinerary! A plan! Now, that he thought about it, he totally needed prior notice before they, uh… ya know. _Especially_ , with what a pervy pig Grif was. (And, with what a secret horn-dog Simmons was. But, that wasn’t anybody’s business!) They-They could really end up going-g-go-going “all the way” (Oh my fuck, he was gonna faint.), and Simmons had to be mentally, -and, erm, otherwise-, prepared!… Simmons knew enough to know THAT! And, THAT wasn’t the kind of thing you just jumped into doing with no… no, um… And, he had to figure out how to keep Richard at bay… Just asking for some alone time, and NOT having a complete nervous breakdown should be enough…

Still, in regards to the food (Oh, thank f’n Christ! Something else to think, -bitch-, about!)- Simmons’ famous scowl appeared without him even summoning it (But, then, he normally didn’t have to.), “You didn’t say anything about _peanut butter_ at first, asshole! What were you trying to hoard it all to yourself?”

Grif simply chuckled lowly (He SO had mentioned the peanut butter, earlier. Simmons just loved to bitch n' moan about every-damn-thing.), and put the basket, -that he’d set aside before he’d manhandled the redhead into his lap the first time-, beside them.

He liked how Simmons could be persuaded into things he was grouchy about (And, this was Simmons, so he was bitchy about most everything at first by natural inclination.) if he actually did like them. It bode well for their future sex life… But… Grif had to really pull out all the stops tomorrow, and make sure not to scare him off. Make sure he liked it- no, _loved_ it. After all, Grif didn’t plan on only getting to do it with him once. (Or only twice… or, only a dozen times… Nope. Not nearly enough.)

Fuck. He hoped he remembered everything. All the little tricks. It’d been a while. But, it was like riding a bike, right?

He tried not to think about the fact that he sucked at riding a bike.

Dammit.

No. Sex _wasn’t_ the same! It wasn’t like he’d had an experienced bike-rider show him the ropes, like with-

Holy fuck. He was getting nervous, too.

This was Simmons. This felt different.

_Important_.

Like he couldn’t half-ass this. He couldn’t fuck this up. He had to-

“ _Griiifff!!!_ ,” Simmons squeaked, “If you get crumbs in my hair, I’m gonna punch you right in the face!”

Huh? What the hell was he talking about?

Grif looked down at Simmons. Looked at his own hand.

What the-

Jesus Christ… He’d pulled out a sandwich, opened it, and was _eating it_ (Mmm… blackberry jelly, and, yes, somehow, it did have honey, too. Yum.) right overtop Simmons, who’d, at some point, rested his head down onto Grif’s chest.

All without even realizing he’d done any of it.

Stress eating at its best.

Grif, a little (surprisingly) guiltily, and not nearly as reluctantly as would be expected, offered some of the sandwich to the redhead.

And, all when he coulda simply given Simmons his own, and NOT shared.

Hmph. Yeah… it was official. Grif realized that he must really love this nerd. He could count the amount of people that he’d so willingly shared food with, _right outta his own hand_ , on two, now, fingers. Kai, of course, -brat needed to be reminded, and practically forced, to eat when she was on a booze binge-, and… the hot, but always on the verge of too skinny, little nerd.

Simmons gave him a look. A ‘what the fuck are you shoving that in my face for’ look.

“Hey, Baby,” Grif smirked, “If I got ‘cooties’, I already gave ‘em to you.”

“Oh, Shut. Up. After this we ARE going to bed. To **sleep**. _Some_ of us are productive members of the team, and have a busy schedule! Ya know, like actual _work_ to do in the morning n’ stuff,” Simmons sniped, but he took a bite.

The prissiest, baby bite ever.

Of all time.

“Yeah, yeah. Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Grif mumbled after pulling the sandwich back to take another healthy, _man-sized_ bite.

He needed his sustenance. And, his sleep. Kissass was right about that.

After all, if Grif had his way, Simmons wasn’t gonna be the _only_ one that had a busy day (Or, night.) tomorrow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is, overall, going by the Official Red VS Blue Timeline, which was released in the Red VS. Blue: The Ultimate Fan Guide on 11/17/2015. (It’s great, btw. I’d totally recommend it.) Therefore, Blood Gulch to Chorus takes place over 5 years, as per the timeline. I know this _isn’t_ what everyone thought, but according to the creators of the show, it’s canon, now,  & it works SO much better for the story, anyway, so screw it, I’m going with it. :p
> 
> Richard’s underlying power top tendencies just slightly showed themselves. Yep, not just top. _Power_ top… In such direct contrast to Simmons’ future power bottom ones- Yeeaah… They’re not very similar sexually, at all... But, then, again, they both ultimately take the more dominant role, even if in different ways. So, I suppose in that way, they are, actually, quite similar. 
> 
> So, in Basic where was Richard during that whole situation, and its aftermath? That will be explained in a future chapter.  
>   
> Also, Reminder: Donut’s secret name for his and Grif’s friendship is SPTUTO. Which stands for Secret Pal That Understands The Other. Pronounced like: Spit? You, too? (To which I just have to say: No, Donut, no. “Low-cal diet”, or no, haven’t you ever heard Spitters are Quitters? ;p)  
>   
> Next chapter is a background chapter that is a continuation of the memory in Ch. 5: Guess We’re All Demons Here. It shows the direct lead-up to the boys being put into the camp, and it will reveal quite a bit more. We are getting to see more of how things actually were, and are, rather than just how they seem to be, or to have been. Again, please check the tags as we are getting into progressively more explicit territory, as well as, disturbing graphic violence, and severe harm to underage individuals.  
>   
> Thank you for all your patience! And, thanks to those of you sticking with this story! Much love to you all! ♡–MissyAnn❀  
>   
> P.S. I almost forgot! Some pretty sad background history with Grif and Kira (His first canon girlfriend/OC character.) was typed out, but cut from this particular chapter. Grif's backstory is tragic and very involved, in and of itself, and it needs its own chapter/s. Also, the story of the day he got drafted has been completely written out and done (Not typed, yet, though.) for months. Another chapter will be coming up that goes into his, & Kai's childhood, and teens. He has a hell of a story himself, no matter how much he tries to hide it. When we are into the morning after, and days following, Grif and Simmons' sleepover, we'll start to find out some of the others (Grif and Donut to start with.) history's, and, in some cases, secret connections to each other.


	17. Perfectly Flawed & Sinfully Pure Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jimmy,” Richard’s voice sounded raw, “Enough. You’re… maybe, you’re just fucking delusional-”
> 
> “Ohhh, no! You aren’t going to convince me that I’m crazy like you have with Richie!,” Richard winced at that, but Jimmy was, now, like flipping a switch from comforting to _peeved_ , too angry to notice, “You even completely _renamed_ him! Well, you can’t block or repress anything from ME, Richard Simmons! Not just to soothe your fear and misplaced guilt! I’m so tired of you putting us all in this- this _bubble_ , and I can’t- Just let me talk to Simmons! I want to talk to him, _right now_ -”...  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the promised (2 part) jump back in the timeline to show what actually happened/was going on at the time after the flashback Richard had in Ch. 5. POV's from both characters in the ship Richard/Jimmy. This is, literally, _right_ before the camp. WARNING: There is quite a lot of **Sexual Content/Non-penetrative Sex** within a very involved, revealing flashback between this consenting, but physically underage couple. Please be sure to skip the flashback/s, if you don’t want to read that. Thanks!  
>   
> 
> 
> Part 1/2 of Two Part Chapter  
> Part 2/2 Is completed & is planned to follow within 24hrs or so. Please check back/Watch out for it.
> 
> Tags for Parts 1 & 2: **Underage Relationship** , Severe Abuse/Torture of Underage Individual/s, Physical/Verbal Aggression toward Partner, Relationship w/Mental Age Difference, Referenced Major Character Prior Death/Having been “Brought Back”, Actual/Attempted Drowning, Major Injury to Character/s, Blood, Scarring, Holy Hell, are Richard and Jimmy almost like Simmons’ actual parents- his “ _Dads_ ”, or some shit? Yes. Yes, they certainly are, These boys gonna fight before they fu-…uhh…, Forced to Deal w/Hard Truths, Mentioned/Referenced Cross-dressing/First-time Cross-dressing & Journey toward personal acceptance, Severe Abuse due to caught Cross-dressing, Very Accepting Richard, Reference to Richard being/always having been “Bipolar”, Mentions of the Supernatural in relation to Richard, Characters have moments of insensitivity toward mental illness, other sexualities, and genders- They can just be unintentionally insensitive dudes, alright, Richard! Get All The Damn Facts Before You React!, Things Never Go As You Plan, Simmons Senior is one seriously Sick, Twisted Mofo
> 
> Explicit Tags for Parts Both 1 & 2: WARNING: Underage Sexual Relationship*, Sexual Acts Involving Richard/Jimmy (No Possible Incest/Simmons Involvement.), Sexy Poolside Lovin’ Flashback within a First-time Sexual Activity flashback, Handjobs & Assisted Masturbation, Nipple Play, Play wrestling, Biting, Dominant behavior, Consensual Pinning/Overpowering smaller partner, Gratuitous Teasing, Nonchalant Dirty Talk (Richard has moments of No Filter.), Spitting, Possessive Behavior  
> Tags for upcoming Part 2 exclusively: Frottage, Blowjobs, Orgasm Delay/Control, Swallowing ;), Undertones of the beginnings of a Relationship with casual/unplanned Dom/Sub elements  
> And, if any form of sex between Richard/Jimmy is uncomfortable, whether due to age, or the reader having a difficult time separating Simmons and Richard as they share the same body (Although, other than the one time Simmons accidently, and momentarily, popped in when the other two were, basically, pressing up against each other, he has never been present during the physical part of their relationship.), then, you can skip the flashback/s which will be indicated by these symbols: ☀ & ♒. Next Ch./ Part 2 will pick off right where we left off. That’s where it gets more explicit. If you’re uncomfortable, skip to halfway down the page/end of flashback (Indicated by: ✧ symbols.) in Part 2 to get back to the timeline the boys are currently in.  
> 

_“…You **goddamn traitor**!” _

_“RICHARD!,” the smaller boy yelped out, horror-struck, “The Lord’s name!”_

_Richard scoffed, “Seriously, Jimmy? If I’m a perv demon, or something, why would that matter to me?... And hey, why the hell do I gotta be a ‘demon’, anyway? Maybe I’m an angel, a guardian godda-_ ”

_“With that nasty Devil mouth?,” Jimmy hissed, cutting him off, “AND, you can’t be an Angel. You-,” Jimmy’s voice dropped to a whisper, “…you like other boys.”_

_“…Guess we’re all three demons here, then, huh?,” Richard stood to leave, “See ya around, Jimmy.”_

  
Richard didn’t get more than halfway across the room when Jimmy called out to him, “Richard, wait!”

And, no matter how pissed he was, he couldn’t help but pause. He didn’t understand the hold this frickin’ kid had on him...

  
_Yes, he did. Yes, he did_...

  
He slowly turned back around…

And, just barely caught something that Jimmy threw at him.

  
“If you’re _really_ going to leave,” Jimmy’s voice shook, but he forced the words out, “ **Richard** Simmons **_Jr_**., then you had better take your jacket.”

  
Richard looked down at what he clutched in his hands.

Black leather.

_The Kid, both him and Jimmy, didn’t really like leather. They thought it was sad._

Beautifully cut. So soft...

  
So familiar.

  
~~It would obviously **still** be way too big to fit on the Kid’s body. Fuck. He’d looked _hilarious_ when he tried it on that time. And, Jimmy had- Jim- no-nononono…~~.

He was shaking. He couldn’t- He couldn’t help it…

The words bulleted out of him. Fast and accusatory, “Where’d you get this, Jimmy? Where’dYouHIDEIT?”

  
Jimmy looked at him. Obviously beyond frustrated. Though, he attempted not to show it. To remain deceptively calm. It didn’t last for more than a few moments, though, “I got it from _you_ , Richard. You really made _yourself_ forget about it all over again, didn’t you? Not just Simmons, but yourself!...”

He’d told Richard many times that he didn’t know why anything with him surprised him, anymore.

From the first time Richard and Simmons suggested they all go swimming after Jimmy had apparently purposely made a point to never suggest, or mention anything about them going into the water after… after something that Jimmy seemed to think had happened involving it had… had gone down… (But- But, if it was just a pool... Just the shallow end of the pool… That was alright. That was okay. You could- could see the bottom…)

  
Richard always tried to tell himself that the Kid had overdosed on tranqs. That THAT was all that had happened. Nothing involving water, or rocks, or dr-drowning… 

  
A little boy with long red hair and blue-blue lips…

And, Richard, himself, leaning-leaning bonelessly, with an arm thrown exhaustedly, but, still, protectively (Too many strangers…. Having to let them work on the Kid was… was bad enough-) around a small, dark-haired boy, that couldn’t really hold up his weight…

And, the blood… blood… dripping down the back of his dark shirt. Hidden under a blanket given to, and wrapped around the two of them, from some well-meaning, but, luckily, oblivious EMT…

Cause no one- no one can know… And, Richard didn’t matter… Not at a time like this. They had to focus-focus- had to save… the Kid… Bring him back...

  
BRING HIM BACK!

  
He’s still trying to assure the silently weeping, equally soaked other boy… that had gone down into the shallows, to try to help pull his too still, so limp best friend the rest of the way out of the icy water and onto the shore… He’s trying to tell him… Tell this frightened child that everything will be alright…

But, his words start to slur, and run together…

And, the dark-haired boy is fearfully, questioningly, saying his name, then, _screaming_ it, as his strength, that strength that had been born of adrenaline and desperation, finally gives in to his hidden wound. To slow, yet, steady blood loss-

And, he crashes to the ground, taking the small boy down with him…

 

Jimmy’s exasperated huff brought Richard back to the present, and for a moment he simply blinked a little dazedly at the soft black material in his hands.

“You’re **impossible** , Richard Simmons!,” Jimmy, oblivious to the turn of his thoughts, was going on, “YOU gave the jacket to me to wear that night, even though it was so huge on me. You know? That night?”

“No,” Richard answered shortly, still looking down at the jacket in his hands. Hearing the water lapping against the rocks (Those goddamn rocks…), and remembering the cold, dead weight of a beloved (dead, DEAD) little brother in his arms… seeing the shore that had seemed so far away…

But, the smaller boy continued, “When the two of us were out looking for him, and it was so cold? You were mad at me cause I came out in my pajamas- Well, you were mad that I came out, at all, but I don’t know what you expected. Did you really think you could call me in the middle of the night, to find out if he was with me, -on a _school night_ -, and I was going to just _go back to sleep?_ Gimmee a break, Richard! I was worried about Richie, too!”

“Stop-Stop it, Jimmy.”

  
The warning behind the words was very evident. But, as usual, Jimmy refused to heed it.

  
“And, I was NOT actually hiding it. I’VE never tried to hide it, or anything, that happened. Well, not from _you_ , anyway. You **make** me hide it from Richie, or ‘Simmons’. You MAKE me let him think I don’t, that HE doesn’t _know_ know you, -who you really are-, and you won’t let me really talk about any of it to _you_ , at all…”

  
Richard’s hands tightened. Crushing the expensive buttery soft material in his fists.

  
Jimmy kept talking. Urgently. Like he knew he didn’t have much time before… before… “And, I’ve been trying to show it to you, and to show you the couple of pictures that Simmons had in his room that I got ahold of while he was still in the hosp-... Anyway, I kept them, and YES, I **hid** them, but not from YOU. I kept them safe! Even after the word was brought down from the Church, and was made into Law about you, and about what happened, or didn’t happen… Do you know how much trouble I could get in for that? They even sent the girlfriend you had when it happened away!”

Richard scoffed darkly. Scornfully repeating, “ _Girlfriend_.”

“Yes. _Girlfriend._ The girl you were… with… earlier that night. I got ahold of an old yearbook photo of you, and of you and her that Ri- Simmons had before they came in and dumped all… everything… all your stuff, or anything that had to do with… with you… And, if you think I _wanted_ to do that… With the picture with _her_ , anyway… I don’t want to be reminded of that mean girl that you… ya know… messed around with! But, anything that could help you or Simmons to remember- to ACCEPT the truth- One of these days, you HAVE to get your head straight about all this. I know you hate anything ‘supernatural’, or ‘spiritual’, I know you think I believe in ‘dumb’ stuff. And, maybe, _sometimes_ , I do. I don’t always WANT to, and _you know_ , I’ve been working on it, but… but this is different! I SAW what happened. I was **there,** Richard! I still have nightmares, sometimes. Especially…”

“Jimmy, don’t-” His voice was barely audible, and he still wouldn’t look at him.

But, the smaller teen went on, nonetheless. He sounded like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, “Especially, about when you got him out, and- and he wasn’t breathing… He wasn’t- he was- he was de- and you tried to get all the w-water out-out of his l- and-and, you breathed for him and-and- until they came, and took over… But, then, you-you, Richard! LYING! Acting like you were totally fine, just ‘wiped out’, so they’d only focus on him, on bringing him back… when you weren’t- you WEREN’T fine! You weren’t okay! He would never have wanted you to do that! You… And, the blood, s-so, so much blood… I think I got it all off the jacket… you- you bled all over me… and, then, at the hospital, afterwards-”

An infuriated, yet, underlyingly nervous hiss escaped Richard’s clenched teeth at the word “hospital”. The one word above all others, of all the terrifying things that he spoke of, that Jimmy should truly know better by that point than to ever say to Richard…

And, Jimmy fell silent. But, still he chanced taking a step toward the trembling other teenager (Young man?... A, now, mentally around nineteen year old trapped in a fourteen year old’s body? Whatever he actually was.).

  
When he spoke, again, his voice was, suddenly, very soft. Comforting. “I… crap… I’m sorry, okay? I _know_ how you are about this stuff. How you don’t ever wanna talk about the truth about what happened- About what you did before- I KNOW you did Richard. I was right there with you. I don’t know **how** you did it, but… I heard- I SAW it-”

  
“Jimmy,” Richard’s voice sounded raw, “Enough. You’re… maybe, you’re just fucking delusional-”

“Ohhh, no! You aren’t going to convince me that I’m crazy like you have with Richie!,” Richard winced at that, but Jimmy was, now, like flipping a switch from comforting to _peeved_ , too angry to notice, “You even completely _renamed_ him! Well, you can’t block or repress anything from ME, Richard Simmons! Not just to soothe your fear and misplaced guilt! I’m so tired of you putting us all in this- this _bubble_ , and I can’t- Just let me talk to Simmons! I want to talk to him, _right now_ -”

Richard actually took a small seemingly nervous step back… but, then, he was right back on the offensive, “Hell, no! Fuck you, Jimmy! You had your chance, an' you fucked it up! And, what does any a' this have to do with _anything_ that’s going on right now, anyway? Huh? You _talked_ asshole! Why? Why would you do that to us? To all of us… Quit… Just quit fucking around. Haven’t you done enough? Just… stop. It’s- it’s enough-”

“No!,” the smaller boy cried out, angrily. But, still, he came closer, “It’s not enough! It has **everything** to do with it!- Ha! And, **I’m** delusional? You can’t accept what’s right in front of your face, and we’re all going to pay for it- And, I… I didn’t just ‘talk’. You keep _saying_ that, Richard, but- but it doesn’t make it true! That’s not what… that’s NOT how it happened. I was- I was scared, and I… I said something, _one_ thing, I shouldn’t have, and  he started to figure it out, and- It was the lesser of two evils! I didn’t really TELL him anything, but he had his own ideas, and kept saying all this stuff, and I couldn’t really chance… If they **really** knew what was going on…”

The smaller boy shuddered at the very thought, but forced himself to continue, “… It-It IS my fault. I’m not denying it. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve been more careful… I just wanted… A-Anyway, but I- I… It could’ve been so much worse! But, you wouldn’t know that, because you won’t listen! You won’t listen to anything that matters! You NEVER listen!”

  
Richard, finally, looked up at him, and spoke. His voice so hard, “YOU, listen, you dumb shit. Even if your bullshit about me an' the Kid was true, -Which it _isn’t_ \- It **can’t** be- I won’t LET it be-, how would me ‘accepting’ anything help anybody? Huh? The Kid can’t live with it! You want Simmons to start trying ta' fucking kill himself every time I fall asleep, again?!”

  
“…Richard…,” Finally, the other boy reached him. He would never be able to explain how those few steps between them had felt and seemed to be a mile apart… But, he pushed all that aside, and feeling the leather jacket in-between them, separating them… in more ways than one… one of his very few pieces of proof, of _evidence_ left… he reached up to caress Richard’s cheek… -The other teen flinched, but still couldn’t help but lean into his touch-, as he asked the hard questions… because… because, they were out of time, “Is that really what you’re worried about? Or, are you afraid that you’ll freak out, again, and try to rip his skin off to get out of his body? To try to escape? Or, do whatever it was that kept making him flatline, again-”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  
_Screaming. Screaming. So much SCREAMING._

_“ **Not like this! Not like this! NOT. LIKE. THIS!** ” _

His own voice coming out of the Kid’s body.

A small fist socking the doctor, -who thought it was his own self that kept bringing the Kid back-, right in the face.

A nurse fainting, while another screamed about “demons”, and “possessed”, and “Just let him DIE, let the devil take him!”…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  
Bright green eyes gone impossibly wide… he wanted to deny, to shout, to rage… but, Richard could only stammer. Sounding more and more like the one he spent all his time with, anymore. Knowing the reverse was true, as well. Hell, he and the Kid really were becoming too damn similar… “No-No! I didn’t- didn’t mean to- I wouldn’t- would never hurt the Kid- Just don’t- don’t talk about- I don’t want to remem-…”

Jimmy sighed softly, and still stroking the other boy’s cheek, he rubbed his own forehead tiredly with his other hand, before continuing, “Look, I know how guilty Simmons feels, and how hard it is for you… to have to feel his pain… but it _wasn’t_ his fault.”

  
“No.” Richard's voice was still so low.

  
“And, you know that him… hurting himself…”

“Stop.”

“That, obviously, wasn’t his idea… But, that’s when all this started-”

“No. No.”

“When he went in the water, and you went in after hi-”

  
“Shut Up, _SHUT UP, **SHUTUPYOUFUCK**!_ ,” Richard’s, -Not Richard using Simmons’ voice, sounding different, but still almost similar enough to fool the ear… No. _Richard’s_ voice-, very suddenly, seemed to _burst_ out of Simmons’ slim form.

  
And, now, Jimmy was flinching back. Instinctively pulling slightly away from him-

  
But, it was too late.

  
Richard threw ~~his, HIS~~ the jacket to the ground, and was aggressively shoving the other boy across the floor, and up against the wood paneled wall before you could say, ‘ _Fuck! He’s lost it, again._ ’

  
“You jus' push and you _push_ \- How many times have I told you not to talk about that shit ta' me?! **How many, Jimmy**?!,” Richard demanded, so infuriated that he felt Simmons stirring in distress.

  
Jimmy’s eyes were squeezed shut, trying so hard to hide the pain of Richard’s hands digging into his upper arms. Into the still so fresh bruises hidden underneath his long-sleeved shirt. Desperately, trying to hide the pain of the taller boy’s leg unknowingly pressing into one of the welts on his upper thighs as he pinned him against the wall...

  
Suddenly, the smaller teen had a whole new list of things to worry about. Because, Richard couldn’t know. He couldn’t know about any of that. Couldn’t know anything about what was hidden underneath his clothes.

  
He was used to only having to worry about that stuff with Simmons. Never with Jimmy.

He _couldn’t_ know cause he’d get… how he got… and he’d do… do something bad, and, ultimately, make everything worse (Jimmy had hardly kept him from his very seriously planned patricide over what’d happened with him and Simmons’ arm!).

And, Simmons couldn’t know because he’d definitely tell Richard.

  
To be completely real here? It was likely part of why Jimmy’d messed everything up. His body, -and, his mind-, hurt in ways they never had before. And, after all his time with Richard… Being able to comfortably be himself, being accepted as being a boy, but, still, being more… feminine? He guessed? (He hadn’t quite revealed everything to Simmons, yet. He still seemed so young.) So he was a boy, he felt like a boy, but he loved all things “girly”, almost felt like he had a girl side or something... But, Richard had never judged him, and, now, he even really seemed to be… more than okay with it…

To go from that. From getting so comfortable with himself and his “feminine” side, so to speak, -even if it was only in secret with Richard-, only to be caught, and-and suddenly, remembering that this wasn’t okay. Not in the world they lived in. Not with the God the Church had taught him to serve...

  
How afraid he’d been. Sure that the one the Church had tasked with punishing the gravest of sins would kill him where he stood… Looking awfully, -and now, it had seemed, AWFULLY-, pretty, he had to admit.

He- He’d felt so, suddenly, _filthy_. Like such a-a sinner! All the secret self-confidence, and intoxicating feelings that came from getting to be comfortable, and accepted by someone, secretly or not, in his own skin gone in a flash.

It’d been a “real shit show” as Richard would’ve called it. When caught, he’d been in full face, even with a pair of the falsies that Richard insisted with his thick, long black lashes he seriously didn’t need, and shimmering gold eye shadow, that matched the thin lines in one of the gold and pink plaid skirts his sister had left behind that Jimmy had been wearing… oh, it was just his luck that they’d come home right then, wasn’t it? So quietly he hadn’t even heard anyone enter the house hours ahead of schedule...

  
And, to be caught by HIM… It was even worse than having been caught by just his own father… Yes, they’d both come home as he’d been giggling to himself, taking a little spin. Thinking about how Richard would like it when they had one of their secret scheduled visits later that week…

It wasn’t like he dressed like that _all_ the time, or even that often went he was… alone with Richard… or even that he wanted to. But, the fact that he COULD, and that his- his boyfriend was so accepting. And- and, even, into it when he actually did-

  
His boyfriend… It was always so frightening to think of them using that word, even though they were undeniably together, in a relationship, and had been for a couple years. But, that word that straight out said that they, well, that they weren’t exactly straight… Although, Richard, -and, Jimmy thought Simmons, as well-, was attracted to girls, too… Jimmy didn’t know what he was “into” in a way. He had really only ever liked Richard since he was in like kindergarten, for crying out loud. Not that Richard really understood that. He felt insanely guilty, and got weirded out, by their mental age difference enough as it was…

But… yeah. Jimmy’d only really ever wanted Richard. Him, as a person. If he had, somehow, ended up in a female body, Jimmy still would have wanted him. He was sure of it. Sometimes, even he acknowledged that he was really too young to feel this much, to be in such a serious relationship... That only got more intense as time went on.

After all, taking Jimmy out of the school, -and forcing him to be homeschooled through the school’s curriculum, for now, until they figured something else out-, certainly hadn’t kept the boys apart.

Maybe, they hadn’t been able to see each other daily, and the past couple weeks (Which was a lifetime, an _eternity_ , for them to be apart, anymore.) they’d had to be especially careful with Senior back in town, and…

And, maybe, they’d had to hide their sneaking around, and sneaking out to be together at all hours, at all costs (Poor Richard, whose status, and whose position directly under his and Simmons’ father in the line had allowed him to get away with- to do, basically, whatever he wanted… Even if he wouldn’t admit it, it was, undeniably, difficult for him to have to live like the rest of them, now…).

They had to hide what was going on, and the fact that they were still together, even from Simmons, now, due to how difficult it was for him to disobey a direct order… That’s why it was a pretty big deal for Simmons to have snuck out on his own accord, -presumably while Richard was napping-, to see him.

It was incredibly dangerous. And, so, so terrifying. Especially, with the timing… If Simmons was directly TOLD or ordered to say whether or not he’d been with Jimmy on a particular day… well, one could only hope Richard would be there with him at the moment to answer the question safely, rather than truthfully-

  
What had Simmons been thinking coming over?! He, surely, hadn’t known what to do- how to ensure he wasn’t seen! He’d just shown up- at the backdoor, at least, but that wasn’t enough! Jimmy and Richard had an entire system to ensure they weren’t caught, and… What would their father do to them if he found out? Simmons couldn’t lie to “authority” for anything!

  
“Raven! Fucking answer me!,” Richard furiously ordered, bringing Jimmy back to the moment at hand.

  
And, despite how angry Richard sounded… Jimmy couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful (That, maybe, he’d still love him, that he’d forgive him, that he’d LISTEN.)… After all, Richard _had_ called him one of his handful of “pet/nicknames” for the first time today…

But, in spite of that, when it _really_ came down to it, Jimmy was too afraid of what Richard might do (Jimmy was _sure_ that Richard would kill someone if pushed too far.) to chance telling him any of what had happened to him…

  
And, a secret part of Richard, no matter how much he loved him, or how much closer they got in the years to come (Inseparable. Like two parts of a whole…), would always struggle to fully forgive him, and himself (Mostly, himself. Because, it was due to his own history of volatile, dangerous reactions to even much lesser things that Jimmy didn’t dare to speak, and he knew that.), for not telling him until it was too late.

He couldn’t help but see it as a terrible betrayal. The _worst_ betrayal. He could forgive him for, in his terrific terror and pained panic, mindlessly agreeing to whatever he (Ultimately, they.) had been accused of so that HE would STOP hurting him.

After all, Jimmy wasn’t as strong as Richard, or Simmons, either, really. And Richard didn’t expect him to be… but that Jimmy hadn’t dared to trust him, to confide in him, to tell him that Senior- that that mother fucker had dared to put his hands on _Jimmy_ , now, too! Tell him, and damn the consequences!... That Richard had had no idea of just how bad things really were… And, therefore, walked them right into a trap…

Maybe, it wasn’t even that he hadn’t told him, exactly, but the fact that he hadn’t TRUSTED him enough to dare to. Been too afraid of what Richard might do. Afraid for his “immortal soul”. But, as far as Richard was concerned, HE didn’t give a fuck if someone, one of hated, the so-hated **them** , had ended up dead due to Jimmy telling him- And, well… look what had happened, anyway...

  
But, of course, Jimmy… Richard… neither of them could have known that in that moment. And, Jimmy was too busy worrying about what turned out to likely be the wrong things, so…

  
Although, the smaller boy stuttered, sounded a little like Simmons, when Richard again demanded, “How many times, Jimmy?!”, as he pushed him further into the wall, practically forcing him to tip his head up, though his eyes stayed shut… The dark-haired boy attempted to joke, “I- I dunno how many, Richard. E-Even I can’t count that high.”

  
And, Richard didn’t respond. Suddenly, too distracted by having to get Simmons to chill out n’ go back to what amounted to “sleep”. His attention diverted by the all-important task of trying to keep him Safe, and out of all of this. Out of anything that could prove to be dangerous, or simply even too unpleasant.

The Kid still thought that Richard and Jimmy never argued. That theirs was a very strange, but, otherwise, perfect fairy tale of a love story.

Ha! Yeah, right. That was a nice thought, but… well, he sure as hell didn’t need to know _what_ it was they actually fought about.

  
“Richard, listen, I…,” Jimmy’s so dark, nearly liquid black eyes, finally, opened, and he looked earnestly up at the other boy, who seemed to tower over him.

He desperately needed to stop getting lost in his thoughts, and get back to the specific topic at hand!

Because, yes, when Richard got like this, you had to tread carefully, but, also, because they really _didn’t_ have that much time…

But, still, regardless of all that, there was something important that had to be said... “…I shouldn’t have said those things. No matter what’s going on... Sorry... Will… Will you let me tell him sorry, too?... Please? I shouldn’t have… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Having ensured they were alone, again, Richard retorted, “How’s about you start by not sayin' fucked up shit ta' the Kid, jus' cause you know I can blank it out-”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Jimmy implored, “You’ve got him so mixed up… I have to think in circles to get through to either of you, anymore! And, Simmons is the kind of person… It’s like you have to get into an intellectual argument with him for him to take you seriously! And, the only way he’ll even _listen_ to reason about any of this, at all, anymore, is if he gets mad, and he’s defending you.”

“So, you tell him I’m a fucking _demon_ , Jimmy? Nice try-”

“Then, _let_ me- You- you won’t let me… This is why I… I don’t- I don’t give a _shit_ what I have to tell him!,” Jimmy started to stammer, but, then, his own frustration got the best of him, “I’ll tell him you’re the freaking Queen of Sheba! I’ll tell him whatever I have to! If it gets him to Shut. YOU. Up. so **he** can actually LISTEN- And, _then_ , maybe, HE can talk some damn sense into you-”

A sneer twisted the pretty features that Richard wore like a mask, “Oh, some _swears_. Is my precious _little boy_ finally really growing up? Is he ready to use some _nasty_ big boy words?... Hmm, interesting. Maybe, the **“demon”** is pleased with you-”

“You-You, shut up!,” the smaller teen frowned up into so bright, narrowed eyes, “If- If Richie KNOWS that you aren’t that, then what does it leave?! Huh? What. Does. It. Leave, Richard? You can keep trying to convince him, and _yourself_ , that you never existed, and that this is all some ‘DID’ deal, -Which is a very **real** mental illness, Richard! Not something to label yourself with just because you don’t want to face the truth, and it feels safer, or less ‘fantastical’-, And, Simmons, he’s a smart ‘kid’, and he could figure all this out, himself, if you gave him a chance. I’m so SICK of you treating Richie like a child-”

“Simmons. It’s just _Simmons_ , now, you asshole!,” Oh, Richard was PISSED.

“What-Ever!,” Jimmy was no less angry. But… not _afraid_. Not of Richard. And, considering how the much taller boy had him pinned quite aggressively up against the wall… That, -him not being afraid-, at least, hopefully, said something about their very… intense… relationship. Jimmy knew Richard wouldn’t really hurt him. Of course, this may have just made him more bold…“YOU gave him that name. Calling him by your guys’ last name when he was always Richie! Do you think that helps with the mind control?!”

Richard _gasped_. You’d think Jimmy’d sucker punched him. “You little _bitch_. That’s NOT how it is, and you fucking know it!”

“Oh, really? It’s not, huh?,” the smaller boy glared up at him, “Cause it sure looks like it! And, I know that you have good intentions, and that you’re just afraid-”

“FUCK. YOU. I’m not afraid!,” Richard unthinkingly shook him slightly, “I’m not afraid of anything!”

  
Jimmy ignored him, and continued (Seriously, this wasn’t a new argument. Although, it had never gotten this physical before.), “-you’re afraid that he can’t handle certain things. Especially, if **you** can’t handle them yourself. But, I bet he could help you, if you gave him a chance. You could help each other- He’s not a little ‘kid’, anymore, dammit!”

  
Richard pulled back a bit to shake his head at him in disbelief.

“Hmph. Listen to you. The floodgates have really opened! You gonna start being a _’bad boy’_ , now? With a- what’d you call it? Oh yeah, a _‘nasty Devil mouth’_.”

A sound of pure annoyance erupted from the smaller teen’s throat, “Eugh! I said I was SORRY, okay! I shouldn’t have said- I didn’t mean- I-I was just freaked out about Simmons showing up outta the blue, right now, and I’m so annoyed with y-”

  
Richard, eyes getting that particular gleam that you’d never see with so innocent Simmons, talked right over him, literally, hauling the other boy right up off his feet, and sliding him up the wall, to press their torsos hard against each other. Starting a slow, lazy grind right up against the smaller teen, as he lowly rumbled in his ear completely in his, in HIS, own voice, “Better watch out, Little Bean. Might just decide I _like_ my sweet good boy being ‘nasty’, and fuck you right up against the wall-”

“R-Richard!,” Jimmy yelped out, his eyes going wide in shock as he, somehow, forced himself not to roll his own hips up against him, _with_ him (He felt like he shoulda got an award for his amazing self-restraint. There were no words to describe how _tempting_ Richard could be. But… this was the **worst** possible time for… all of that.)… but, still, he was unable to hide that underlying excitement that he could _never_ quite hide when Richard got too worked up, and forgot their particular situation, and… got like this… “Don’t talk like- Not when we’re talking about Simmons, and… he was _just_ here! We’ve never- not when he’s so… close… What’re you thinking?!”

  
“…Oh… yeah…,” Richard stopped in literal mid-roll into his boy’s lower belly, in the middle of shifting him higher, and into just the right position (He hadn’t pulled him up quite high enough. Damn, he was short. Especially, in this position…), so it wouldn’t be his _stomach_ that he ground up against with the next roll of his hips…, “Fuck.  Kinda forgot… Well, quit goddamn distracting me, then!”

“I-, ” Jimmy started to protest.

But, Richard cut him off, again. Simmons had taught him damn well. “Look, I know you think you’re his fucking surrogate mother/big sister or some shit, but _you_ don’t know what’s best for him, Jimmy.”

“Richard… You… Okay, THAT’S IT! Now, I’m getting really mad!,” Jimmy actually growled like an angry little puppy, and, then, although, he didn’t have a lot of space, he managed to kick Richard right in the shin. But, Richard simply pressed him tighter up against the wall. Incidentally, this lined them up nicely to- “D-Do- _oohhh-_ n’t- Richard, quit! I’m y-yelling at you, not do- _oo-oo-_ ing it with you, right now!”

  
Richard grumbled, but backed up a bit. Jimmy, as soon as he was released from pleasurable pressure, and friction, immediately commenced with the bitching. Jesus. His chick side was reigning _supreme_ , “Now, you-you listen to me! You don’t go acting like YOU know what’s best for him! Good intentions, or no, you’re the one that’s messed with his head so much! He KNOWS who you are! He really does! And, you tell him it’s not true- NO! _Not_ just that it isn’t true, but that you NEVER even **existed**! That’s sick! And, it makes him think he’s insane! STOP LYING! Just because **they** told us to say you never existed-”

A strangled sound, very suddenly, came out of the taller boy, as he lost any interest in messing around and muttered, “…No… No… Stop it. Just stop it,” Richard was whispering by the end. Pushing the smaller boy harder, _harder, **too hard**_ against the wall to Jimmy’s mostly contained, but unmistakably, pained whine.

Richard, immediately, loosened his grip on his arms. Because, no matter how far Jimmy pushed him, something in him could never actually hurt the smaller boy… Not him. Never him…

  
And, Jimmy, using this knowledge, and his own flexibility to his advantage (Despite the long-sleeved button-up shirt and khaki shorts he wore to hide… to hide.), immediately, raised and hooked his legs up around Richard’s waist before he could step back. Pulling him, and keeping him, close.

Bodies, now, pressed completely, and entirely, flush against one another in the midst of all this, to the sound of Richard’s warning growl…

But, Jimmy, more than used to his ways, didn’t pay attention to Richard’s threatening rumble that emanated from what had once been only Simmons’ chest as he pressed closer to the other boy. He, seriously, hoped Simmons never found out how… extreme… things could get with what he saw as his ‘other side’, “Richard, you listen to me. This has gotten outta control. And, Simmons said some kids were calling him a ‘fruity faggot’, again, at school. I didn’t even know what the heck to say! I _know_ you. I know you wouldn’t just LET that happen… And, without me there anymore to keep you-”

“What, Jimmy?,” Richard cut in, hissing furiously, as he glowered at him, “To keep me WHAT? On a fucking leash?”

“No, Richard. To keep you from exposing yourself! I KNOW how you are! What did you do to those kids, Richard? And, how is it going to come back to haunt all of us? Or, has it already? You already have all the kids at school thinking Simmons is insane! How many more times do you think you can convince people that the other kids are lying, and a ‘nerd’ like Simmons could _ne-ver_ lure some bully somewhere, and beat the crap outta them! You have to be more careful! You HAVE to! You know that you getting… how you get… and standing up to your guys’ father, -acting like YOU-, but not always having the physical strength anymore to back it up, -at least, not with HIM, and, _especially_ when you’re tired-, that’s how Simmons, -well, and your, now-, arm got broken. You CAN’T-”

“DAMMIT! I fucking know that, Jimmy! You think I don’t know that? But, I couldn’t take it! I couldn’t jus' LET him put his hands on the Kid like that! Like he was his own personal goddamn punching bag! I couldn’t-,” Richard’s voice, suddenly, broke, “I couldn’t take it… He’s a- Simmons' a good kid. None a' this was his fault, an' I… I didn’t- I didn’t freaking know… it was so bad… that he’d hurt him so much… I can’t… let anyone hurt him, anymore… not Senior… Not some fucking kids…”

  
Richard trailed off.

  
“I know, Richard. I know you just want to protect him…,” Jimmy whispered, breaking into his thoughts.

  
And… Richard looked down into the other boy’s large and pleading dark eyes… and, he let out a defeated sigh.

He could never stay angry at him. It was impossible. He meant too much to him, and… and he… he was the only one… Jimmy _knew_ him.

And, releasing his arms, -Jimmy instantly curled them around his neck-, Richard’s hands dropped to his thighs. Fingers so gently running underneath… so he could get ahold of him, and hitch the smaller teen even higher up against the wall, and more securely up around his waist… if the boy had upwrapped his legs from around him, he’d _really_ be dangling right up off the ground, now.

Richard buried his face into the crook of his neck… to hear Jimmy quietly continue, “-and me… I know you just want to protect both of us, but… I have to know… what did you do to those kids?”

“*Sigh*… Don’t… Don’t worry about it, Raven,” Richard mumbled, obviously ready to be done with the conversation, and move on to other things. Like pressing his lips forgiving to his boy’s pulse point, and scraping his teeth along the sweet curve of his jaw… hands cupping that slight curve of his hip and cute little butt so tenderly… breathing out the words he couldn’t hold back…, “Fuck… Can’t get enough of you… Damn little brat… Love you too fuckin’ much…”

  
“ _Mmmm_ … ,“ Jimmy’s breath sped up, as, successfully distracted, he tipped his head back, resting it against the wall, to give Richard better access to him.

And, despite how much his body secretly physically ached from his hidden punishments, the endless pull toward this other boy (who may have been, mentally at least, practically a man.), that had started way before Jimmy was old enough to understand it… this connection that had survived such tragedy, and oddities… it overcame any physical suffering, and he whimpered at the feel of Richard’s lips, and tongue, and teeth.

He wanted him. He LOVED him. No matter how young he was, he knew it was true.

And, no matter what happened, in that moment, he truly knew that he always, always would...

  
It was actually this thought that caused his mind to clear, “Wait… Richard, you’re- you’re trying to sidetrack me so we don’t talk about-”

  
He felt Richard smile slightly against his neck as he mumbled, “Yeah? Well, I must not be doing that good of a job at it- How ‘bout you jus' hold onto me, an' I’ll take you over to the bed…”

Jimmy moaned lowly, “Ohhh, yes. Please, yes-...” But, then, he remembered the hidden already purpling bruises and the angry red welts on his arms and legs, that Richard could NOT see, and he came to his senses, “I-I mean, no! Not-Not... right now...”

“Ah, c’mon, Raven... Thought you wanted ta' not think about anything for a while? I know you like to play hard ta' get, sometimes, but I’m not in the mood for fucking games, right now-”

“That’s- That’s not exactly what I meant! I just wanted us to spend some time together. I didn’t just mean for us to... you know...” Jimmy couldn’t help but internally roll his eyes to himself. Richard saying to him, and telling himself that ‘Nothing really _did_ happen’ between them in- in that way. Pfft. Yeah, right. As long as he made sure they didn’t completely DO do it, apparently. Like go all “all the way”. Then, it seemed, he could convince himself it wasn’t _really_ the same, at all, and was just kinda innocent messing around.

  
It was a very similar thought process that many of the kids Richard counted amongst “ **them** ” had. Even, to the point that from what Jimmy understood, although Richard refused to confirm it, some of the boys and their girlfriends secretly went even further than Richard would currently let them go (Since that’d be going all the way for them…).

It was kinda shocking, but some of them would just, uh, do another kind of “penetrative sex”, as some of the kids of the Church sorta grossly called it… one where the girl couldn’t get pregnant… Basically, the same thing that two boys would do… Jimmy didn’t know WHY Richard refused to admit that it was true. He knew Richard hadn’t been a virgin, after all. And, hadn’t been for a while. Or, at least, that’s what he, -and Simmons, as well, before Richard blocked his memories of him-, had suspected. (Of course, Simmons, better known as “Richie” at the time, had seemed to think people made out, and **that** somehow made a baby… Heh. Even, Jimmy had known better than THAT at that point.)

  
But- But, anyway, once they’d gotten together, and Richard had first (And, _finally_.) **really** touched him… It hadn’t been that long ago, had it?... Mmmm… Yeah, he, um, he’d more than known what he’d been doing. Enough to teach Jimmy… *Shiver*…

He’d… He’d never forget it...

 

**☀ At Jimmy’s Residence – Bedroom: Within The Past Year☀ ******

  


Kiss Me In The Sunlight  
Behind A Locked & Bolted Door  
Hold Me In The Moonlight  
Take Me To The Floor…

  
Richard stood in the middle of the sunlit room with beams of light breaking across his creamy, white skin like rippling waves. Nearly making him glisten.

His hair, long and loose against his face, shone with an almost angelic light…

He stood there.

Lovely to behold.

A treat for the eyes.

And, he was-

_Complaining_.

Tapping a bare foot irritably, as he flexed a bicep in front of the full-length mirror in Jimmy’s room, and _glowered_ at the unimpressive, too small for his liking, muscle revealed.

“- _still_ too damn skinny… Raven, you wouldn’t frickin’ believe it. Every time I try ta' work out, -an' I’m talkin’ some real pussy shit here. Like ol’ grandma couple pound _hand weights_ , for fuck’s sake-, the Kid bitches and moans about sore muscles. And, here _I_ am doing all the work for us, like I do with everything he finds ‘unpleasant’, anymore, and the brat bitches! Fuckin’ kids these days! I swear-”

  
Jimmy came over to him, smiling, and shaking his head a little at Richard’s nagging.

Richard liked to complain, but he, also, just loved to boast about any and all of Simmons’ accomplishments, and he could, seriously, be like a proud peacock when it came to “the Kid”.

He’d always been that way. Even before-

All this…

The two attitudes nearly balanced each other out.

But, then, again, with his brother complex...

  
The smaller teen wrapped his arms around Richard’s slim waist. And, resting his head on his chest, he murmured, shyly, “Well, I think you two look really good.”

“Ah, you’re biased, though,” Richard replied, waving a hand dismissively.

But, still, he tipped the other teen’s head up, one hand cupping his chin, while his arm slipped around him…

And, he was pulling the smaller boy up onto his tiptoes… leaning down to softly kiss him.

Perhaps a bit surprisingly, it was actually Jimmy who, licking teasingly across the seam of the other boy’s lips just as Richard had, inadvertently, taught him-, deepened the kiss, when Richard, sighing, went to, reluctantly, pull back.

That move got the taller boy to let out a pleased hum, and start to _really_ kiss him.

  
And, Jimmy was feeling quite proud of himself- Well, at first… but once Richard’s dominant side really took hold, Jimmy couldn’t think straight enough anymore to entertain any such coherent thoughts…

Not with the taller boy pushing him forward so he could crowd him up against the mirror, and nip at his soft lips, and underneath his chin… And, slide a hand, -No, now, BOTH hands-, down, down to roughly grab his-his behind, and start to effortlessly lift him up against him...

  
Jimmy _moaned_.

  
And, darnit! He could’ve kicked himself. Cause him doing that seemed to cause Richard to “come back to his senses”, or some such annoying thing that Jimmy, _seriously_ , didn’t appreciate after so long of being in a relationship with someone that got him SO worked up, only to leave him high n’ dry...

Richard, obviously, forced himself to pull back. To make the silly excuse about them needing to _switch the laundry_ (First thing that must’ve come to his mind.), of all things.

And, he patted the top of the smaller boy’s head, and started to walk away. Apparently, expecting Jimmy to trail after him like a loyal, lovable little puppy like he normally always did.

  
He was nearly at the bedroom door when Jimmy whispered from where he still stood... he didn’t plan to say it aloud, at least, not then, not like THAT, but… but…, “It’s cause… I’m not a girl… right?”

  
And, Richard paused.

Hand on the door panel.

Facing away from him.

Slowly, he asked, “What?” 

  
Jimmy’s voice wasn’t very steady, but the words were clear, nonetheless. As if he’d been thinking about this for a while. Which he really had. “That’s why… why you only let us… let us go so far. So you can close your eyes, and tell yourself… you’re- you’re really with a- with a girl…”

Richard’s hand pressed so hard against the wall beside the panel that it, honestly, looked painful, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?,” he asked, his voice almost too low to be heard.

“I-I’m not blaming you. I KNEW you liked girls when we got together, but… but-”

“But, what, Raven? But, _what_?”

“I… I don’t know. It just- It- It’s... hard... It hurts... to be with someone who’s not really- who’s just-...” His following words were nearly inaudible, “-not attracted to you.”

  
Richard whipped around at that. Deep red strands flying across his face (Unlike Simmons, he liked to wear their hair down. He figured if it was long, you might as well show it off.).

  
He looked MAD.

Jimmy found himself taking a step back in surprise. He hadn’t realized Richard would get upset!

  
The taller teen took a step toward him, voice nonchalant, though those green, green eyes were blazing, “So I’m jus' ‘not attracted to you’, huh? That’s the problem?”

  
“Richard!,” Jimmy held up his hands in an attempt to pacify him, “I’m-I’m not trying to pick a fight. Don’t go n’ get mad- I just…” He sighed, and mumbled, looking away as his pale cheeks brightened considerably, “Look… I… was thinking… thinking I could… I could, um, always… d-dress up- like a… you know… like w-wear a skirt? If-If that would h-help you…"

  
Richard scoffed. Just that quickly looking amused, rather than angry. He could be so bipolar. He’d always been that way.

  
“Wear a skirt,” he repeated, as he still slowly stalked the smaller teen across the room.

An' Jimmy couldn’t help but instinctively back up as Richard got closer.

And, closer.

He was starting to feel a little trapped.

And… And, he had to admit… that he kinda liked it.

With Richard, anyway.

Suddenly, the back of Jimmy’s thighs hit the bed, and-

Whoa, he hadn’t even realized he was backing into the bed... 

  
Later, he thought that, maybe, that’d been, -completely subconsciously, but nevertheless-, intentional.

  
And, then, Richard was right there in front of him.

Hand pressed up high to the center of his chest. Surely feeling his heart _BeatBeatBeating_ like a little cornered jackrabbit beneath his palm.

And, Richard was shoving him, quite gently for him, down onto the mattress as he smirked down into his dark eyes…

All Jimmy did was blink, and, then, just that quickly, Richard, was leaning over to run his hand down his chest, down to his belly…

Down, down to the hem of his t-shirt, and underneath it, and-and...

  
Those long, slender fingers whispered up the bare skin beneath his clothes.

Pointer finger swirling playfully around the smaller boy’s belly button-

And, look… it _was_ true that Richard had touched his bare skin before…

And, that Jimmy had been wrapped, all slippery and wet, around the taller boy, while they were in nothing but their swim trunks…

And, that…

And…

That…

_Mmm…_

  


**♒ At Jimmy’s Residence – Pool/Poolside: Over The Past Year–Year & A Half♒ ******

  


Love Me By The Water  
Break This Tragic Chain  
If Only You Would Remember  
We Three Still Remain... 

  
Such long weekends.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall…

No matter the season, no matter the weather...

Such warm, warm nights.

Whether curled together under a thin sheet, or a thick down comforter…

It didn’t matter.

  
It was the heat from each other’s bodies that kept them warm.

  
And, the days…

Well, the days…

Just playing in Jimmy’s pool while his family was away for the day, until… if Simmons wasn’t with them…

-Whenever he was, it felt so very different. More like… they were a… a family, and he was their beloved kid/younger brother/child. Weird? Sure. Absolutely. But, that was the honest truth-

When they were alone, though, one of them would, inevitably, end up stealing kisses… those so delicious, forbidden kisses… from the other, until-

Until, Richard got too impatient with all the splashing about in the warm, chlorinated water, and hauled the other teen out…

To lay his trembling, smaller body onto a soft, fluffy towel arranged atop the cold, hard cement, and-

  
And...

  
Their eager hands.

All over each other.

Slender, damp fingers gliding over equally pale n’ glistening wet skin…

Both covered in goose bumps from so much more than the cool breeze that tickled across their soaked hair and slender frames…

Cold droplets of water drip-drip-dripping from Richard’s long loose strands onto the shivering boy placed so carefully beneath him…

And, more often than not, and seemingly unconsciously, Richard would growl overtop Jimmy’s slim body like some kinda starving animal. Before pinning him down beneath him as he bit down into his soft skin… marking him possessively, as he would lick, and nip, and _bite_ his way up and across the smaller teen’s belly, his slight chest… his collarbones, and shoulders...

  
Leaving multitudes of so obvious hickey’s and teeth marks on him...

  
Yet, still, grumbling about having to keep them in places where they could be hidden underneath his clothes, when Richard wanted to put them where everyone could see…

And, know…

That he was _HIS_.

Forever…

Always…

And, ONLY…

His.

  
He muttered this, and so many other things…

His voice ( _His_ , always his, voice at such times.) low and dark.

So persuasive…

As Jimmy squirmed, and wriggled, and tried to buck up into him.

  
Eyes closed, fingers combing shakily through his soft, wet hair… that in his mind’s eye, in a moment like this, was still as similar to his own raven black as it had been… before...

  
Suffering.

Suffering under such delicious-

Tantalizing-

Torture.

  
And, when the smaller teen was SURE he couldn’t take anymore (Well, without _getting_ more…) Richard would find a new way to play with him. To touch him without actually touching him where Jimmy most wanted, most _needed_ , to be touched…

Then, he’d be tonguing, and flicking… Sucking, and _pinching_ the smaller teen’s pebble-hard, pink little nipples into his mouth, and between his fingertips.

All while Jimmy, his breath coming out in erratic, soft puffs, desperately tried to keep as silent as possible so the neighbors wouldn’t hear…

Wouldn’t discover…

Wouldn’t know...

  
Their Secret.

  
Until, he couldn’t take it anymore, and the desperate, hungry moans that started to escape him would be cut off by Richard’s lips, and tongue.

And, then, he’d be kissing, and licking his way into Jimmy’s mouth until the smaller teen was wrapping his legs tightly up around Richard’s waist, and practically begging... whimpering and whining beneath the taller boy... begging for more, and _more_ , and **_more_**...  


♒ ♒ ♒ ♒ ♒ ♒

  
So, uh… basically… y-yes… he had felt Richard’s hands (And, lips, and tongue, and **teeth** …) on him before.

  
But...

  
But, this seemed so different.

And, it didn’t feel like Richard was going to just make them stop, and do some mundane, dumb thing, rather than… than-

  
Jimmy, suddenly, jolted a little in surprise and excitement.

  
Cause as he was busy day-dreaming about their sexy make-outs by the pool, Richard had placed his hands on his sides so he could drag him further up the bed, and climb partially overtop him.

And, he’d slowly pulled up his shirt, and bending further down, replaced his finger, that had gone back to tracing those soft, teasing circles (He loved to tease.) around his belly button with… with his tongue. Swirling it wetly around, dipping it into...

  
_“Ohhh, Richard…”_

A whisper.

A plea.

Jimmy felt that wolfish grin against his skin. That dangerous, tempting smile that he’d never seen on _Simmons’_ **actual** face. But, only Richard’s, and then Simmons’ face when Richard was in control.

“A skirt, huh?,” Richard questioned playfully, bringing them back to the topic at hand, while he held the other boy down to the bed with a hand on each hip. His shiny, long hair tickled across the smaller boy’s skin as his mouth cruised over his flat belly, “And, jus' where the hell you gonna get a _skirt_ , Jimmy Bean? Hm?- _Pfft_ ”

  
He, literally, blew a wet, messy raspberry right between the smaller boy’s ribs, and Jimmy squirmed, and giggled helplessly under his strong hold.

  
“Whatever,” Richard continued, flippantly, “Like I need you to be MORE pretty. Already want you too damn much... Fuck...” And, he had to press more kisses, -harder, more demanding, somehow, kisses-, into Jimmy’s skin, down to the little hollow where his belly turned to his pelvic bone, “…Have a hard enough time not jumping you as it is- So, no, I don’t need you to wear a-”

But, Jimmy found himself breathlessly replying, “I-I don’t mind... uh, wearing one... and, um, it was my sister... she- she left some stuff... Wait. You- You said... you do? You... do want me?”

“Well, duh. Fuck, you’re a dumbass, sometimes,” the taller teen rested his forehead down onto Jimmy’s stomach to groan in exasperation, “It’s just… I TOLD you when we hooked up that we had to take this slow...”

A cry of protest from a one “pretty lil’ pixie”, “It’s been forever, though!”

“Yeah, yeah. You think I don’t know that? Don’t know what **you’re** bitchin' about. I’m SURE I’m suffering more than you are… But… anyway…” Richard pulled up to grin mischievously at the other boy, “What’d Jackie leave? Show me. You been gettin’ all dolled up, an' _not showing me?_ *Tsk* That’s fuckin’ **lame** , Jimmy.”

The smaller teen swallowed hard, “I-I didn’t know if it’d really be… um, o-okay… Uh, alright, I guess I can… Just let me go get-” He made as if to start to get up. He even managed to make it up onto his elbows-

  
But, then, Richard’s palm was back on his stomach, and he was looking thoughtful, “Wait.”

“W-What?,” Jimmy stammered.

  
And, Richard was moving up his body, shoving him back onto the bed, and wrestling him down until he was completely flat underneath him, again, to the sound of Jimmy’s soft squeaks, then, quiet pants.

When he had the smaller boy, looking disheveled and extremely flushed, securely pinned back beneath him, -hands held down, and held up, by his head with their fingers entwined-, he murmured in his ear, “It’s not a good idea. Not at first. We’ll play around with all that another time.”

Jimmy was still panting underneath the other boy, and he couldn’t get out much more than a rather senseless sounding, “Huh?”

“Jimmy, c’mon,” Now, he was nibbling under the smaller boy’s chin. That spot that always made him shiver, “Think about it. You said you feel like I’m ‘not attracted’ to you cause you’re a boy… _Mmm_ … Fuck, that’s retarded-” A couple sucking bites, and a smaller teen’s excitable yips and yelps later, and he continued, “I don’t wanna have you dressin' up like a girl the first time I touch you. Not when you’re thinkin' that kinda shit. What fucking precedence does that set?”

  
Jimmy was too busy shivering in anticipation to consider precedence or anything. Cause… Oh…oh… Had Richard said… Was he going to?... He touched him all the time, so when he said “first time”… Did that mean- did he mean…? Was he actually _really_ going to touch him? 

  
Was it finally going to happen?!

  
There were so many butterflies fluttering about in his stomach that he took a moment to contemplate what their species, genus, and coloration might be...

  
But, Richard had fallen silent, as well. And he seemed to, also, be contemplating something, as he was, suddenly, frowning unseeingly right overtop Jimmy’s current mess of raven locks, at the comforter beneath them.

Jimmy lifted his head up off the mattress to press a soft kiss to the tip of the other boy’s nose, and he cocked his head questioningly at him when Richard focused back in on him.

  
After another indecisive moment, Richard blew out a breath, and uncertainly, but not, at all, cruelly or unkindly, asked, “Unless... Do you need to?... Like dress up?... To actually... get off, or-...”

Jimmy was almost too startled by the question to be embarrassed, “Need... to?... No... I just kinda like to... ya know... sometimes,” Jimmy looked away, only then beginning to feel self-conscious. (Richard’s varying reactions, playful, then, thoughtful, but not, at all, judgmental, had confused, but calmed him.) And, he continued in a mutter, “...I just... found some stuff boxed up in the attic that I... ended up trying on...”

  
He didn’t mention how he’d agonized over whether or not to give in to the temptation.

How he’d paced back and forth in front of the large box of neatly folded uniform and daily wear skirts, dresses and cardigans, stockings and leggings that his older, but similarly sized, sister had cast aside, but their hoarder mother had refused to get rid of… Only glancing at the box out of the corner of his eye as he’d strode back and forth across the cold attic floor… Normally smooth brow furrowed in such deep, deep concentration… Forgetting all about what he’d come up there for in the first place...

  
Back and forth.

  
How he’d, somehow, ended up in his sister’s old room, -that’d been kept much the same-, in her bathroom… And, rummaging through the vanity to find her “back-up makeup” that she kept at the house. Then-

Blinking dumbly down at the tubes, and applicators in his hand.

How his hands had been shaking. Trembling so badly that even when he’d mustered up the courage to slick some pale, shimmery pink lip gloss onto his lips he’d applied it unevenly. And, he’d almost poked his eye out multiple times with the mascara brush.

Shuddering and shivering too much to _dare_ to attempt the eyeliner…

How he’d, finally, clambered on top of the bathroom’s vanity countertop, in order to be as close to the mirror as possible. -Never thinking that he could’ve simply used the full-length mirror in his own room- So he could wipe it all off over and over (Thoughtlessly and accidently, using one of the nice embroidered hand towels with his sister’s, -and his-, initials on it. That he’d later had to hide away to figure out how to clean.), only to try, again and again, to _get it right_.

It had to be **right**.

How he’d smiled the biggest, whitest, happiest smile into the mirror when he finally _did_ do a decent job, and, then, had startled himself with how- how GOOD he looked…

But, then...

How he’d taken it all off, again. Scrubbing his face until it shone, but felt raw and wounded.

  
So wounded.

  
How he’d climbed unsteadily down off the counter to sit slowly, shakily down onto the floor…

  
And, just _wept_ into his hands like a tired, frightened child.

  
Because it seemed, with all he’d been taught about the importance of a “Man of God” always living up to the ideals of being a “man”, and nothing BUT a man… It seemed so unforgivably **wrong**. Like much more of an actual sin, somehow, then his and Richard’s secret life together.

And, yet, it _felt_ so comfortable, so strangely _right_ to be able to explore this other side to himself. This side that was so distinctively female, despite him truly feeling, and seeing himself, even in his secret heart of hearts, overall, as still being male.

  
It was so confusing…

  
It’d only been a couple days before he’d tried, again. But, with a flowing pink skirt with matching cardigan, along with long black knee-high stockings, and a black form-fitting turtleneck to go along with his pink lips, and cheeks, and black, black lashes…

  
“Raven,” A whisper of lips against his, now, smooth brow, “Talk to me.”

Jimmy forced himself to focus on the present, but, still distracted, ended up mumbling, “And, when I… I thought about it… I guess I thought maybe… it’d actually make it easier for you anyway since you… like girls…”

Richard sighed in frustration this time, “Jimmy, fuck that. I like YOU. I **want** you… *Chu*… Alright. Maybe… Maybe, next time, we’ll do all that, if you want. But, if it’s not like fucking _essential_ for you… I don’t wanna mess with anything off the bat that’s gonna subconsciously confirm these messed up ideas you got about me.”

“What messed up-! Wha- About YOU?”

“You think I don’t want you cause you’re a boy. You think I’d want you more if we pretended you were a girl,” Richard stated blandly.

“Rich-”

“No, Jimmy!,” the other boy snapped, “That’s just fuckin’ retarded! I love **you**. I don’t give a fuck that you’re a boy! Maybe… Fuck, FINE! Maybe, it’s a little awkward, but that’s just cause you’ve always been so frickin’… petite… And… dammit! You’re freakin’ _beautiful_ , Jimmy! Just a beautiful, delicate lil’ pixie princess of a boy! Why you gotta make it so hard on me? Why you gotta be so- Well, shit! It jus' makes me feel like a mother fuckin’ pervert! It doesn’t matter how old, or ‘young’, I might look, I still feel like some older creep that’s perving all up on your pretty little ass! Because, I DO want you… I want you BAD. Understand?... Jimmy?”

  
Jimmy looked up at him, eyes locked onto his, as he zeroed in on the one thing Richard had said that mattered most, “You… you love me?”

Richard looked surprised. Like he hadn’t even realized he’d just blurted that out.

But, he let go of one of Jimmy's hands.  
  
Touched his cheek.  
  
And, slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” His voice was soft. Incredibly sweet. Especially for him. Really for any Simmons, to be frank, “Don’t you know that by now?”

“You didn’t- didn’t say…”

“Haven’t you ever heard of subtext, Jimmy?,” the taller teen teased.

  
But, Jimmy couldn’t think to answer, because Richard was releasing his other hand to get ahold of him, and lift him up off the bed just enough to pull his shirt up and over his head.

The smaller boy automatically put an arm protectively across his slender chest, although, he had no idea why. Considering all the times by, and in, the pool, it wasn’t like Richard hadn’t seen him shirtless before.

Again, though, this didn’t feel the same.

But, then, Richard was taking his hand, -that he’d unconsciously clenched into a nervous tight fist-… And, pulling his arm up off his chest as he kissed his wrist almost kindly until Jimmy calmed, he said, in an equally gentle tone, “Don’t hide from me, sweet baby,” It was the first time he ever called him that, though, definitely, not the last, “You’re beautiful.”

“I-I’m nervous,” Jimmy blurted, unable to help thinking that he, himself, sounded kinda like Simmons. But, then, they’d been best friends, inseparable, really, since he was _six_ , and Simmons had been five, years old, for crying out loud. So, maybe, that wasn’t so shocking, after all. (Uh! Don’t think about Simmons, at a time like this, he told himself. That’s so flippin’ awkward!) “What- What’re we gonna do?,” he asked anxiously.

“What do you wanna do?,” Richard had him pinned down by the hips, again, and having pulled his shorts down _juuust_ enough, he was leisurely running his tongue up and over his hipbone…

  
Why _up!_ , Jimmy lamented to himself as he whimpered below him. Richard always told Jimmy he loved the “taste” of him. Maybe, he did, although Jimmy wasn’t precisely sure what he meant. It seemed to him, more that he just loved to _torment_ him.

  
“Um-um, I don’t, uh, huh…” Jimmy, eventually, stuttered out, as if he had no clue, and didn’t know _exactly_ what he wanted to do. As if he hadn’t been fantasizing about it since the first moment Richard had laid his hands on him.

“It’s alright,” Richard soothed, “Maybe, you’re not ready, and that’s coo-”

“Don’t you DARE say it’s cool! You can’t keep-keep getting me all- you know… and, then, leaving me to take care of it myse- u-um.”

  
He blushed so hard, and so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt off.

  
“Take care of it yourself, huh?,” Richard’s smirk might have been hidden into Jimmy’s side, but ohhh, you could hear it. Loud n’ clear.

“Shut up… This is all _your_ fault, anyway,” the smaller boy mumbled as he squirmed due to embarrassment as well as arousal, now.

“Oh, yeah? My fault you jerked off, huh?”

_“Rich-ARD_ , stop embarrassing me!,” Jimmy whined, pitifully.

Richard ignored him, nipping into his soft skin, “… _Mmm_ … My fault,” he chuckled, sounding quite tickled by the notion, “You’d think I held your damn hand, or some-… _Hm_ …”

  
Uh-Oh.

  
“What ‘Hm’?!” the other teen couldn’t hide the twinge of panic that crept up in him alongside the anticipation, “Why ‘Hm’?!”

“That’s not a bad idea… to start with, anyway…”

“WHAT’S not a bad idea?,” Jimmy raised his head to look down at the other boy, who’d moved up to suck a mark directly below his too hard little right nipple. Just being a casually merciless tease as per usual, “R-Richard! Use your-your words!”

“So how long you been doing it?” Unsurprisingly, when he was in one of these moods, he completely ignored the question, and asked one of his own.

“Ah! Umuh-uh… I don’t know _what_ you’re t-talking ab-,” He tried to come across as snooty, but fell silent when Richard looked up, right into his eyes . Swiftly changing tracks, he attempted to glare, as he stubbornly insisted, “I-I’m not- not telling.”

“Hmm… Oh, yeah? That what you think?” Oh, boy. Richard sounded cocky, again. He was giving off that whole, _We have waaays of making you talk_ vibe.

“Yeah! That’s what I kn-OHH!,” the smaller boy cried out as Richard so swiftly abandoned the darkened mark he’d been working overtime on, and swirled his tongue up around the little nipple above it. Then, just to make his point, he blew a slow stream of deceptively cool breath onto the wet skin, and _nipped_ the small pink bud carefully between his teeth, and flick-flick-flicked with his tongue…

“Oh-Oh! O-Okay, okay! What- *eep*!”

  
Jimmy actually _eeped_.

  
Because, the second he gave in, -although, they both were getting so worked up, they’d forgotten what he was even giving in to, exactly-, Richard was all incredibly, almost frighteningly, swift movements. (Sometimes, he truly seemed so very preternatural.)

Manhandling the other boy onto his side. Curling around and pressing up hard against the full length of his smaller body as if he was simply going to spoon him, so they could take a nap together.

  
Which they’d done many times before.

  
But, this truly was different.

Cause, although, Jimmy may have felt Richard pressed, so hard and ready, against his backside before…

He’d never been so… insistent… And, he’d always gotten himself under control, somehow, someway.

Or, just took off somewhere before they could…

  
But, this time, his arm, which was usually wrapped around Jimmy’s slight chest, was instead down low, draped over his hip. With his hand running unhurriedly across his lower belly.

In such stark contrast to his quick movements from before.

  
-Oh, it was gonna happen!-It was gonna happen!-It was, finally, gonna-

  
When Jimmy, eagerly and instinctively, turned, and cocked his head back for a kiss, the other teen was looking at him with a level of intensity that he’d never seen on his face.

Before that moment, at least…

And, then, just as his tongue slipped into his mouth-

Richard’s hand was on the elastic band of his shorts, his fingers slipping under those _and_ his boxers underneath them. Having to lift them up off his skin, rather than just pull them down, in order to free him, because Jimmy was already _so_ unbearably **hard** , it was, uh… kinda… poking out…

  
But, who cares! He was panting. So excited. So _ready_ to, finally, be truly touched by this boy he loved…

  
Richard was, with Jimmy’s eager help, pushing his shorts and boxers as far down his slender legs as he, in the current position they were in, could.

But, he was too impatient, and just left them above his knees.

And, before Jimmy could try to kick them the rest of the way off….

Richard’s hand was trailing back up the smaller boy’s slim thigh.

And, then, for the very first time, -watching Jimmy’s face so, so very carefully-, those long, slender fingers wrapped, securely, around him-

Jimmy inhaled. Sharp and sudden.

And, Richard-

  
He _laughed_. Laughed!

  
Jimmy, _instantly_ , elbowed him right in the gut before the jerk could even think to call for a Hail Mary save.

“Oh, fuck!,” Richard grunted in surprise, “What was that for?”

“What was that-” Jimmy squeaked out. Angry. Appalled. Aroused. “You **laughed** , you- you- you **heathen**! Now, you sc-screw off, jerk!”

Then, Richard laughed, AGAIN!

And, that was **_it_**. Jimmy was gonna beat the **crap** outta him! He didn’t care how much smaller he was!

Life finds a way!

If he’d learned _anything_ from Jurassic Park (Still the best Dino movie out there.), it was that!

And, Richard STILL had his hand on his- his-

And, his body was betraying him like the hungry, horny Richard’s personal ho that it thought it was- Oh, Jimmy was PEEVED, and he was HARD.

His pride couldn’t _bear_ it, and he swiveled around as much as he could with Richard holding him so tightly (In more ways than one.), and tried to kick, and punch back at him-

Richard had him pinned more firmly against him in what seemed like a second. The hand and arm, not preoccupied with tormenting his traitorous flesh, slipping underneath him to wrap securely around his waist. A long leg thrown over his wiggling hips to ensnare him.  
  
And, it was only serving to make Richard’s hand on him feel better and better. You know, the, uh, the wiggling... So, he just HAD to keep doing it more and more.

  
He couldn’t help it! 

  
When Jimmy turned his head to glare back at him, Richard kissed him friskily like they were just having some **fun** together, at the moment. Like it was a _game_.

And, perhaps, it kinda was, but Jimmy wasn’t ready to admit that, yet. He was too busy feeling hormonal, and offended!

So, Jimmy tried to bite him. Even managed to get a decent nip onto his lower lip.

  
-That night, Jimmy would feel SO guilty when Simmons, rubbing his mouth and scowling, complained that his lip was sore for some weird reason. Jimmy baked him two batches of peanut butter cookies “just cause” as a secret apology-...

  
But, of course, in that moment, Jimmy getting “rowdy” only served to rile up Richard’s aggressive side, and he started to kiss him _fiercely_. Grumbling and growling the whole while about how it was just the _look_ on his face that he’d been laughing at. Not HIM.

Apparently, his mouth had “dropped open”, and his “…eyes looked like they were gonna pop outta your head the second I got ahold a’ your dick.”

  
And, Jimmy couldn’t help it. Once he knew Richard hadn’t been mocking him, or something (Well, not exactly.)… Which, really, that would’ve been outta character for him to have done that, anyway. He wasn’t ‘needlessly’ cruel…

Jimmy felt, actually _felt_ , himself melting like warm butter under the other boy’s lips, and hands. (Well… except when it came to that one place that Richard had ahold of. No melting there… Oh, he was so weak-willed when it came to him!)

And, Richard responded in kind. Touch and lips, even teeth, against his skin turning tender. Loving and kind. His grip on him loosened. But, only in that one place. That one aching, so hard place.

And, he ran his fingers up and down the smaller boy’s hard length. Palmed his… um…. too tight sack. A little thoughtful, playful rolling… Then, up, again. So, so softly running his fingertips and neatly trimmed nails over, and all around the so sensitive head. Getting it nice n’ wet.

  
An’ all while the arm around Jimmy’s waist pinned him firmly to him.

  
Jimmy was in an actual state of ecstasy. Shivering and jolting slightly with each of Richard’s curious, yet, increasing calculated, touches. It was like he was gauging his reactions. Probably, figuring out how this all went with another guy, rather than a girl…

Oh, but Jimmy didn’t want to think about that. It’d just make him jealous...

And, he’d rather focus on how everything felt in that moment.

There were no words to explain how **much** better it felt to have someone else touch you there. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed about how he was practically _leaking_ like he never had before. Not like _that_.

And, all over _Richard’s_ hand, too. Not just his own. Richard’s. (Or, at least, what was currently his own ha- No! Don’t think about that!)

Richard, was, obviously, getting so turned on that he had started, it seemed completely unconsciously, rocking hard, and grinding up against Jimmy’s backside and upper thighs in a way he never had before. Again, not like THAT.

  
Pressing open-mouthed kisses, and teeth to the back of the smaller boy’s shoulder and neck…

  
Oh, it all only made Jimmy MORE worked up. He was whimpering, and panting uncontrollably. Trying so _hard_ to rock up into Richard’s touch. His fingers. His hand.

But, Richard was too strong for him to break free, and though all he would’ve had to do was ask… he didn’t want to…

Cause Richard was not, yet, stroking, but _exploring_ , **worshiping** him like a blind man, finally, reading his own spiritual manifesto. (Now, available in braille!)

So he writhed as much as possible under such deep, aching pleasure. Grabbed desperately up onto the arm draped over his hip in an attempt to steady the frantic pounding of his heart...

And, evidently, that action broke Richard’s concentration, because his hand moved away so suddenly that Jimmy actually cried out shamelessly.

But, Richard was getting ahold of the hand that Jimmy had locked onto his upper arm. Prying his fingers loose.

  
One. By. One.

  
And, playfully teasing, “Hey! I’m doin’ all the work here. I know you’re a lil’ lazy bum, but-”

For a split second the smaller boy was lost as too what- I mean, some people (Namely, himself.) had been born premature, and still needed a daily naptime, okay! It was for _health_ reasons-

But, then, it clicked. And, he was _sure_ that Richard meant for him to simultaneously return the favor Richard was paying him, and he was more than happy to do so.

“Oh! I’m s-sorry, I-I wasn’t thinking,” Jimmy stammered out, still shy even though Richard had just had his hand all over his… ya know… private parts.

I’m sure you can imagine how confused he was when Richard, taking Jimmy’s smaller hand in his own larger one, pulled it back down, and keeping his hand on top of the smaller boy’s, he placed it down to rest on Jimmy’s-

  
“Wha-”

  
“Well, you gotta _show_ me how ta' do it right. You know?,” Richard managed to sound very reasonable and convincing. Despite the fact that they were both insanely, distractingly hard. But, ya know, Richard had his moments. He could be impressive like that, “How am I supposed to know how you like it, huh?”

Already so breathless, the other boy replied, “S-Sounds like a good e-excuse to l-live out some voyeur fantasies…”

  
Richard snickered, a little breathless himself, but he, actually, admitted, “Yeah, right?”

  
And, Jimmy couldn’t frickin’ believe it, considering how much more personal and private, just _embarrassing_ , it seemed, but when Richard’s larger hand tightened overtop his, he gladly let their fingers intertwine, and close back onto him.

  
…But, Jimmy couldn’t bear to start. He was sure his face was on fire. And, he burst out, “But-But, I-I’m probably not even very good at it-“

Richard snorted so LOUD in his ear. Like he got such a kick outta that, “At _jerking off?_ Oh, you’re not gonna wiggle outta this THAT easy. Oh, man… Jus' not that good at it, huh?,” He snorted, again, “Fuck, I love you, Jimmy Bean. You always crack me up.”

And, although, it hadn’t been planned, Richard’s easy declaration served to embolden the other boy, and he slid their joined hands up. One firm, quick stroke.

  
That had him moaning, and Richard swearing.

  
But, THEN, Richard was making them let go of him to Jimmy’s instant yelp of displeasure-

That turned to a yelp of shock.

Because Richard brought Jimmy’s hand up to his face (Which was super close to him. Basically, resting down on the smaller boy’s shoulder.)-

And, _spit_.

  
Just a big ol’ wet glob a **spit** right into Jimmy’s hand.

  
It was the grossest, hottest thing that Jimmy had Ever. Seen. And, he secretly watched Yaoi… (Bara was **too much** for his sensitive soul.) So, maybe, the hottest thing he’d ever seen in person. Which was always way better, anyway.

But, he wasn’t best friends with “Sir Bratty McScowls-A-Lot” (aka Simmons’ aka Richie’s playful nickname from Richard from _waaay_ back.) for nothing, and he loudly complained, “You coulda spit in my _face_ , you flippin’ jerk!”

Richard ignored him, and actually put Jimmy’s own _spit hand_ in HIS face, now.

“Spit,” he ordered, as though it was the most normal of things to demand.

“No way!,” he cried out.

“Yes way,” Calm. Quiet. And, so persuasive, “C’mon, Raven... You know you want to, you little perv…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Currently really only semi-explicit w/these two due to their age, and the character recalling its inability to think too naughty a words, at this point in his life, even while doing so naughty a things. Was a **challenge** to write without using particular descriptive words unless cocky Richard was saying them!
> 
> Couple Things: One, when Richard is in full control of the body, he often thinks of it in singular, individual terms (He had to teach himself to do this, though.), just as Simmons does. Where when Simmons and Richard are present simultaneously they both think in terms of “our” body.  
> Two, Jimmy goes between calling Simmons “Richie” & “Simmons”. Remember, in this AU Richie was originally what Simmons was always known as. It’s like his “real” or, simply, first name, if you will.  
> And, lastly, guys, I have a problem. Where the hell am I going to put all the sex tags?! Seriously, I already have so damn many tags! And, we’ve got multiple couples here, and they all have their kinks. (Some more than others. Though nothing too wild. In my opinion, anyway.) I mean, there's going to be a lot of sex tags by the end of this... I just don't know.
> 
> BTW, I really only view this segment as semi-explicit, (But, that’s still partially & pretty explicit esp. in Part 2, so be forewarned, and steer clear, if needed!), and I could really only go so far with them due to their current physical age at this point in the timeline, and this really felt as far as Richard would allow them to go at this point. Which, honestly, was WAY further than he’d originally intended, but isn’t that always the way, though?
> 
> And, I know this is a given, and I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, but here’s a little disclaimer:
> 
> ~This is a fictional story that deals with some very serious real world issues. Although, some supernatural elements/possibilities are being explored within this story, this is in no way meant to detract from the very, very proven circumstances that people suffer. But, only to explore, within a fictional setting, the unexplainable in a way that goes beyond the claims of demonic possession.~
> 
> Thanks again for all your patience! And, thanks to those of you sticking with this story! Much love to you all! And, next chapter will be up very shortly. ♡–MissyAnn❀  
>   
> 


	18. Perfectly Flawed & Sinfully Pure Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, okay. Jimmy KNEW this was Richard, right now. Not Simmons. Trust him, he’d been there when it all happened. So no matter how unbelievable it all seemed, he _knew_.
> 
> He’d kinda put himself in the mind-frame of them being identical twins, now, or something, so he could separate them more fully in his mind.
> 
> But, despite that… sometimes… hearing Richard say… the things he said… to hear that stuff coming out of what had once only been Simmons’ mouth… it was sorta… _beyond_ shocking…  
>   
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *LINKS TO SONGS IN END NOTES FIXED*
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Please forgive the delay. Got some very stressful news, and got caught up. But, here's the Chapter, and it's a biggun. BTW, I keep wanting to mention that the tags are nearly _all_ outta order. AO3 keeps reordering everything even when I erase it all,  & start from scratch. Any tips would be welcome! Like, seriously, Donut/Lopez really aren't the second biggest relationship of any kind in this story. (Sorry, guys! You're SUPER importante and essential, tho! For mani-pedi's, if nothing else! ;p I jkid, jkid.) ☺ Happy Holidays, lovelies❣ 
> 
> Part 2/2 of Two Part Chapter
> 
> Please, For Both Our Sakes, Do Not Read This If This Subject Matter Will Disturb You. It IS connected to the story, and what happens to all these characters, though, including, -ultimately, down the line-, Grif/Simmons, Doc/O’Malley, Donut/Lopez, Richard/Jimmy (Of course), Richard & Simmons, Grif & Richard, Simmons & Jimmy, and even Grif & Donut, and is not just underage sex written for the sake of writing about underage sex. Most everything has a meaning within this fic, and peoples life’s, and stories intertwine. Nonetheless, you can still skip the sex scenes if they make you uncomfortable.  
> Tags for Parts 1 & 2: **Underage Relationship** , Severe Abuse/Torture of Underage Individual/s, Physical/Verbal Aggression toward Partner, Relationship w/Mental Age Difference, Character Working Thru Indoctrination, Referenced Major Character Prior Death/Having been “Brought Back”, Actual/Attempted Drowning, Major Injury to Character/s, Blood, Scarring, Holy Hell, are Richard and Jimmy almost like Simmons’ actual parents- his “ _Dads_ ”, or some shit? Yes. Yes, they certainly are, These boys gonna fight before they fu-…uhh…, Forced to Deal w/Hard Truths, Mentioned/Referenced Cross-dressing/First-time Cross-dressing & Journey toward personal acceptance, Severe Abuse due to caught Cross-dressing, Very Accepting Richard, Reference to Richard being/always having been “Bipolar”, Mentions of the Supernatural in relation to Richard, Characters have moments of insensitivity toward mental illness, other sexualities, and genders- They can just be unintentionally insensitive dudes, alright, Richard! Get All The Damn Facts Before You React!, Things Never Go As You Plan, Simmons Senior is one seriously Sick, Twisted Mofo
> 
> Explicit Tags for Parts Both 1 & 2: WARNING: Underage Sexual Relationship*, First times, Sexual Acts Involving Richard/Jimmy (No Possible Incest/Simmons Involvement.), Handjobs & Assisted Masturbation, Nipple Play, Play wrestling, Biting, Dominant behavior, Consensual Pinning/Overpowering smaller partner, Gratuitous Teasing, Nonchalant Dirty Talk (Richard has moments of No Filter.), Spitting, Possessive Behavior  
> Tags for Part 2 exclusively: Frottage, Blowjobs, Orgasm Delay/Control, Swallowing, Undertones of the beginnings of a Relationship with very casual/unplanned Dom/Sub elements, Sub tries to be Top Dog: Dom, uh, _nudges_ him back into place  
>  *Currently really only semi-explicit w/these two due to their age, and the character recalling its struggling with thinking too naughty a words, at this point in his life, even while doing so naughty a things.  
> 

_Richard ignored him, and actually put Jimmy’s own **spit hand** in HIS face, now._

_“Spit,” he ordered, as though it was the most normal of things to demand._

_“No way!,” he cried out._

_“Yes way,” Calm. Quiet. And, so persuasive, “C’mon, Raven... You know you want to, you little perv…”_

  
  
“I’M a perv?!,” Jimmy squealed in offense, “ **Me**? _You’re_ the one- I think you’re projecting- I- Oh, screw it.”

  
And, he just did it. Holy cow, he just Did. It.

  
He spit right into his own already salvia-slick hand, and it felt so freaking _dirty_.

And, he LIKED it.

  
He liked Richard’s pleased purr of, _“Good boy”_ , even **more** , though.

  
His, now, nice n’ wet hand was brought back down to circle around his, not surprisingly, still hard flesh with Richard’s fingers still entangled with his…

Encouraging him with just the slightest of movements.

  
Ah, geez.

He really was gonna make him start-

Again.

Stubborn.

Every Simmons he’d ever met was stubborn.

  
But, Jimmy didn’t have any more patience to mess around.

And, he was swiftly stroking himself, -with Richard’s fingers tightening around his-, before he even _realized_ he had started doing it, again.  
  
His head falling back in pleasure, -raven black, silky strands mixing in with deep, bright red-, as the other boy pressed searing kisses into his flesh...

  
And, then, Richard was moving with him.

Helping him.

_Teasing_ him.

Tickling his thumb and pointer finger over the increasingly sensitive head with every other upward stroke as he first nipped, then, -too caught up in the moment to think twice about it-, sucked a dark mark (That Jimmy’d have a heck of a time hiding til it faded. “It’s a spider bite, Mrs. Jensen.” Their teachers would notice before his parents would.), right into his pale, white throat.

Oh, it was so- there really were no- no words to describe how it felt.

Not just to be doing this.

But to be doing it with _Richard_.

With his Richard…

  
Jimmy’s hips twitched, and he turned his head back.

Sudden nameless fear swirling up from so deep within. Burning in his chest.

Seeking what was Richard’s mouth in this moment.

  
_-Where was he?-_

  
Blindly searching for him.

  
_-He was here… Right?-_

  
For his essence. His very spirit.

  
_-Richard! Richard! Where are you? I can’t see you- I can’t see-_

  
And, Richard was there.

Lips hard and demanding. Tongue soft and sweet.

It made Jimmy want to sob in relief.

  
He was there.

  
He was still there.

  
Somehow, in some unexplainable way…

That which was RICHARD still remained.

  
The amount of feeling poured into their kiss, the small-hitching gulps of breath that an emotional Jimmy couldn’t hold back… it all seemed to be overwhelming for Richard.

_“Fuck,”_ he ground out. And, he ground up on him _so **hard**_.

Seriously, Jimmy still wasn’t sure Richard really registered that he was actually even doing it, until he pressed back into the hard length grinding and rocking insistently against him...

And, all at once, Richard grew incredibly still… For one long, breathless moment… And, when he moved against him, again, he was almost _trembling_. Like he never had before. Just slightly, but… like the effort of holding back, of only getting so much… was pain and pleasure all rolled into one.

  
And, he was practically purring, again. Whispering encouragements, and praise, mixed in with such dirty, dirty things, in-between lavishing licks and mind-numbing nips onto the sensitive outer shell of Jimmy’s ear, “…My good boy… so good… So fuckin’ gorgeous… _Mmm_ … Wanna lick every inch of you... Such a pretty, perfect lil’ cock-”

Jimmy’s hand slowed down, nearly stuttering to a stop under Richard’s, as he gasped out, “N-No! D-Don’t call it l-little. I look-looked it up, and it’s a-a- perfectly acc- acceptable s-, uh, size for my age, n’ h-h-height, and stat- _ah-ahh-”_

Richard’s hand had tightened overtop his, and he’d gotten Jimmy going, again. Controlling, and quickening their strokes as he grinned, and panted into his ear, “Hmm… True… But, still… of course, of _course_ , you **researched** your dick size.”

“D-Doesn’t- Doesn’t every- everybody? D-Didn’t you?”

“Eugh. Not in this bod-”

  
He fell silent. And, before he could get too upset, too distracted… Jimmy rocked back, and rubbed his little bottom all over Richard’s-

  
_“Ah, fuck, Jimmy…”_

  
Richard’s groan of his name pushed Jimmy even closer, and he started to blurt out (He couldn’t _believe_ he was going to say the words aloud, but the list of things he’d do with Richard, and **only** Richard, was endless…)

“R-Rich-ch-chard, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“ _No_ ,” Richard’s voice was suddenly and completely uncompromising, and his hand shoving Jimmy’s off, and, then vising around the base of the smaller teen’s poor aching length was absolute _torture_.

_“WhatWhatWhat?! Howww?!_ What’d you just DO?!,” he _wailed_.

  
Thank God no one else was home.

  
“Whaddya mean? Isn’t it obvious? I stopped you from cum-”

“I REALISE that, you giant j-jerk! But, w-why would you even- even _know_ how to- know about something- something like THAT? Th- uhhh- Thought you h-hadn’t been with- with other g-guYS!,” he panted out the words, ending in a squeal when Richard, -tightening his grip on him with his one hand-, loosened his hold around his slim waist with the other to trail down… and cup his-his  way too tight s-sac with his other hand.

Just getting all _Mr. Investigator_ , again, all up (Or, down.) in his business.

  
He was gonna kill him.

  
…Uhhh… bad choice of words…

  
Jimmy could feel that wolfish grin on the back of his neck, “You’re not the only one who can _research_ things, Jimmy-”

“But, whhhyyy _thaaat?!_ ,” the poor boy almost cried, as he squirmed.

“Cause I wanna take extra good care of you…” Richard murmured as he moved back enough to drape a long leg further overtop the boy’s hip, and used his knee to gently press him down flat onto the mattress. And, although, he released him with one hand, pulled his arm out from under him, and started to move more atop him rather than beside and behind him… he, still, kept a good grip on the one place Jimmy’d rather he be releasing (And, stroking…), “Cause I decided I wanna suck you off… Then, I wanna suck your dick-”

  
Jimmy peeped like a little baby bird.

  
“-til you get hard, again, -only right in my mouth this time-, an’, then, you can cum, again. That cool with you?... Raven?”

  
Really such a cocky jerk. Like he was talking about what was on the menu for dinner…

  
“Uh-uh… Mmm… Mmhm…”

  
And, okay. Jimmy KNEW this was Richard, right now. Not Simmons. Trust him, he’d been there when it all happened. So no matter how unbelievable it all seemed, he _knew_.

He’d kinda put himself in the mind-frame of them being identical twins, now, or something, so he could separate them more fully in his mind.

But, despite that… sometimes… hearing Richard say… the things he said… to hear that stuff coming out of what had once only been Simmons’ mouth… it was sorta… _beyond_ shocking…

  
But, he couldn’t think about that, anymore. Because, everything was moving so rapidly forward, again, and Richard was sliding down his body, and, Jimmy was up on his elbows, looking down at him, eyes wide, again, mouth slightly ajar.

And, oh my freaking-

Was Jimmy whispering piteous pleas?

_Begging_ beseechingly?

It seemed he was, although, his mouth hadn’t consulted his brain on the wisdom of such a thing. With a tease like Richard…

  
Getting Jimmy to beg was likely his plan all along.

  
And, Richard was _watching_ him.

He could feel his eyes, which almost seemed to _glow_ with some otherworldly light, burning into him.

Feel his free hand brush against his quivering inner thighs before he was pulling Jimmy’s shorts and boxers the rest of the way off of him. Gently, meaningfully, pressing up on the smaller boy’s knees, -when he seemed frozen in place, unsure of what to do-, so he would lift them enough to help.

Then, he was pushing his legs further apart so he could settle in-between them.

All while never releasing him.

And, running that free hand over n' up his thighs, his hip, to his chest, now…

  
When the point of Richard’s flexible tongue tapped down on his still leaking slit, -of course, exploring (And, _tasting_.) him first-, Jimmy moaned in sweet agony. Sure that Richard would keep him on the brink until time immemorial.

But, instead, at that first taste of him, Richard’s eyes fluttered shut, and he hummed against him before just _swallowing_ him down.

The smaller boy figured he had to have had the most awestruck, dumbfounded look on his face… Thank GOD Richard’s eyes were closed. If he’d tried to laugh, again, right then…

  
But, he didn’t.

  
Although, Jimmy almost could’ve himself if he hadn’t been locked in a state of ecstasy.

  
That bright hair was super tickly against his sensitive skin...

  
So, he was, likely, making weird faces due to that, too.

  
But, you know… maybe, it was actually pretty normal to make silly expressions the first time you felt wet heat surrounding that part of you that seemed to have been _made_ for such pleasures...

It was all so- They had to do _more_ of this cause it was-

  
And, then, Richard released his base to take him so deep… completely and fully into his mouth, and-

The _second_ Richard’s hand released him, he was _done_. Humiliatingly quickly.

Arching into Richard’s mouth with a broken, shocked cry. Fingers digging into his comforter below them. And, spilling, spilling into that warmth for the very first time.

  
And, Richard, -rubbing his thumb soothingly into his upper thigh-, just _swallowed_ it. Without hesitation or thought. Like that was so **normal**. Like all of this was. For a boy to just… and with another boy…

  
Was it normal? It _felt_ , all of it, all of this between them felt… right, somehow. Meant. Absolutely, meant.

Despite everything they’d been taught, and the moments of fearful doubt, and them still being (Physically, at least.) too young-

  
But, when they were together… there was so much feeling, so much _purity_ within this supposed “sin”…

  
Jimmy felt so sentimental… panting, trying to catch the breath that Richard had, somehow, so skillfully stolen from him… he thought he was about to _cry_. (He really cried too much. He was such a crybaby.)

He felt Richard’s hand running up his body to pat, then, press to his upper chest.

Their little secret sign. That, though entirely unspoken, ultimately said, _I **know** you. Your heart. Your spirit. Who you really are._

  
Bonelessly, bringing his own hand up to his chest to tangle his fingers with Richard’s… He looked down his slight body at him, and-

  
Those eyes, those intensely bright eyes flashed up at him. And, for a split second… -we’re talking in the nanoseconds here-, they looked **BLUE**. That strikingly intense azure blue that Jimmy had only ever seen Richard and Simmons Senior have. It was almost _frightening_.

It was-

  
And, then, he blinked, and… they were green. That deep, yet, brilliant green.

  
Jimmy felt faint. For a moment… just a singular moment… he could’ve sworn that he’d seen beyond what was physically in front of him to the Richard that resided inside…

  
But, then, Richard was distracting him. Dropping a kiss onto the top of his thigh, his inner thigh, the side of his softening-

_Oh_. M-Maybe, Richard had meant what he said about, um… do-doing it, again? Maybe, he was going to-

  
Outta seemingly nowhere, Richard softly teased, “What do good boys say?”

  
Huh?

  
“Uh… um… Th-Thanks?,” Jimmy replied. Though it came across as more of a question than anything else.

Richard laughed. “ _Nooo_ … But, you’re welcome. Try, again.”

“Um… I don’t… _Mmm_ ,” he whimpered as Richard was _truly_ teasing him, again. Feather-light touches, and soft kitten licks… “Gimmee a clue!,” he begged shamelessly.

“Hmm… Lemme think… What do you say when you want some-”

_“Please, Sir, may I have another!_ ,” Jimmy yelped out desperately, yet, quite triumphantly.

  
Richard _burst_ out laughing this time. His head dropped onto Jimmy’s thigh, and he just cracked the frick up. “Holy shit! I can’t even-”

  
“Th-That wasn’t it?,” the smaller boy asked meekly.

Richard stopped laughing.

Raised his head.

But, oh, that wolfish grin…

  
And, so close to Jimmy’s… ya know!

  
“Close enough,” he informed him. Flippant as can be.

“Oh, you-you meant just pl-plea- _eeezzz_.”

  
Jimmy had no idea what strange sounds he trailed off into, because Richard had squeezed his hand, and just _swallowed_ him all up, all over again. And, he’d only, at that point, gotten half-hard so far so… yeah… apparently… Richard really meant to go through with that whole… thing he’d said.

  
_Cause I decided I wanna suck you off… Then, I wanna suck your dick ‘til you get hard, again, -only right in my mouth this time-, an’, then, you can cum, again. That cool with you?... Raven?_

  
Well, it was more than “cool” with him, but, he was thinking that it, probably, wasn’t going to take long.

Again.

Not with the luxuriously lewd way Richard’s tongue was moving around him while he was sucking and _slurping_ at him…

And, how he was holding him down to the bed this time. Hard enough to leave marks in the shape of his fingers on his skin.

  
It was all equal parts aggressive and sweet.

And perfect.

Just perfect.

  
And, it felt INSANE.

  
Perhaps, he was more sensitive this time since he’d so recently-? But, then, what-what did he know about this stuff, anyways?…

  
Jimmy realized he was _keening_. Like you’d think he was at a wake or something.

Between his moans and near wails, and all the wet, obscene sounds Richard didn’t seem to be _at all_ embarrassed about making… the room was, uh, **loud**.

Yeah, that’s… that’s a good way to describe it…

  
Loud.

  
But- But, he was doing, um, alright. Right? He could hold out this time! He hadn’t- Not yet. Somehow…

Until, Richard trailed a hand up to lightly _pinch_ a painfully hard little nip, while doing this crazy swirly thing with the tip of his tongue-

  
And, it hit Jimmy so freaking **hard** this time that it was like little silvery sparks of light popping and glitching out right before his eyes out of absolutely nowhere.

  
It was a good thing the neighbors knew he screamed when he got spooked, so they must’ve figured he was busy being his typical “girly” wimp self, rather than busy shaking and writhing as he cried out his second release in a row into his secret boyfriend’s mouth.

  
He swore it took him twice as long to catch his breath.

  
But, then, Richard hadn’t really LET him catch his breath last time, had he?

He had to smile sleepily, at that.

Mmm… he needed to wake up a bit here. Take care of Richard. Which he was excited to, finally, do.

Turnabouts fair play, after… aft…er all...

  
He thought he dozed off for a second. Or a minute. Or a couple minutes…

But, he woke, instantly, when he felt Richard moving about a little uncomfortably, before he sat up.

And, he absently patted and rubbed Jimmy’s leg.

Before getting up onto his knees… edging closer to the side of the large bed…

It all felt very…

  
Familiar…

  
And, it hit Jimmy like a load of bricks.

He was, suddenly, quite awake.

Because-

  
He was going to leave! Like he had so many times before when things had started to get much too hot n’ heavy…

  
But-But, _why_?! Weren’t they past that, now? Wasn’t Jimmy supposed to…

  
All of the smaller boy’s insecurities came flooding back.

  
“You… Are you _cheating on me?_ Are you going to go mess around with some-some _girl_ , now?! Is it Becka?! No, Tiffany! Who is it?! I’ll _slap her_ right in her trashy boyfriend stealing _face!_ ” He may have sounded a bit shrill, but… but, he didn’t know what to think.

Richard looked surprised by his outburst. Then, annoyed. “Jimmy, don’t start with that shit-”

“Then, why-,” Jimmy sat up, hardly noticing he wasn’t wearing _anything_ while Richard was still clothed.

And, he leaned up to wrap his arms around the other boy. Pressing up against him to hide his, suddenly, burning, watering eyes into his chest…

  
_Please, please. Don’t hurt me like this…_

  
And, he actually felt Richard _flinch_.

Even though… he, also, felt how incredibly **hard** he was. And, how his arms almost seemed to, guiltily, sneak around him, only to, then, hold him so breathtakingly close.

As if he really _wanted_ to be with him. Wanted it so much-

  
It didn’t make sense!

It didn’t- It didn't-

It absolutely did NOT make any-  
  
But… then… suddenly, it really did.

  
So quietly, Jimmy asked, “Is it because of Simm-”

  
“Don’t. Not now,” Richard snapped out, as always not wanting to ever talk about him when they were like this in any way.

Despite the fact that they _shared a body_ , now, and some things were inevitably _always_ going to be awkward… It still made him unbearably uncomfortable.

“But, Richard… you know he said as long as it was me…”

  
Jimmy fell silent. He HATED that. Whenever he was feeling insecure… that thought… that Simmons was okay with this as long as it was with Jimmy, who was someone he knew and trusted… it made him feel afraid that maybe Richard was only with him because he was the only person Simmons was comfortable with him being with…

He forced himself to continue.

  
“He just… doesn’t want to know about… the details… That’s what HE said, anyway… You know… you were there…”

“I- I just…”

Richard seemed at a loss for words.

“We could… you know… like do it how you…,” Jimmy blushed, and burrowed deeper into the safety of Richard’s arms before going on, “…how you did it with me at first? Like you could show me how you… you know… how you do it…”

Richard squeezed him so tight… but, then, burst out, “No. I can’t. I DON’T do it… I won’t do it. I just can’t. I…”

Jimmy pulled back to look up at him, “You never… _You?_ … But, how do you…?”

Get off? Being such a passionate person that had _obviously_ been s-sexually active before all this… And, that could currently spend more time than you could imagine leisurely getting Jimmy all worked up, -and, clearly, getting excited himself-…

Richard’s voice was very low, ashamed even, “It seems so wrong… It’s just wrong… I can’t touch… this body… like that…”

“Because at the end of the day, you’re still brothers,” Jimmy sighed, but nodded in understanding.

And, Richard looked so freaking uncomfortable, “Can we not- Not now, I said!”

“Okay, okay!,” Jimmy exclaimed.

  
But, he couldn’t help but think that it was really no wonder why Richard was so wound up, and ready to sock someone so much of the time…

  
Wait…

“Richard! You were gonna go pick a fight with someone! That’s what you’ve been doing whenever-”

“So many _accusations_ ,” he growled down at the smaller teen.

“Yeah, but that one’s true. I’ve seen you… And, sometimes, it’s been right after we were messing around, and, then, there YOU are riling some bully up- You’re just getting all your s-sexual tension out with-with _brawling!_ ”

Richard rolled his eyes, but snickered, “Such a drama queen... But… whatever. It’s never been with anyone who doesn’t deserve it, an' no one **dares** to say the 'pretty-boy nerd' kicked their ass. No one would believe them-”

  
And, Jimmy, although his knees were still a little weak from earlier, threw a freaking **fit**.

  
“This is absurd! I can’t even believe what a dumb system that is! If you can’t t-touch yourself- and-and release all your insane amounts of tension… Well, I’ll do it! I **_want_** to. And, I. _Don’t._ Want. You. Fighting! If you get Simmons a black eye or something because of your ridiculousness, _so help me_ , Richard! I will **go to war** with you!”

“…Whatever…” Richard muttered, looking away a tad shamefully as if even HE knew that his system was more than flawed, and unsure how to react to being caught at it.

  
But, Jimmy was determined that this stop already. If he was just fighting to defend Simmons or himself, that was one thing, but _this?_

  
Not acceptable. Absolutely NOT acceptable!

  
“So- So just lay back down, and let someone take care of YOU for once!” He may have sounded more like a bossy brat, at the moment, than a compassionate “lover” or whatever, but it was what it was.

He knew what Richard needed.

  
The boy in question let out a supposedly irritated little huff...

But, wouldn’t you know it?

He _actually_ ended up doing it.

  
That was a little known secret about Richard. If you _really_ meant something to him, no matter how aggressive and dominant he could get… sometimes, he’d give in.

  
But, Jimmy could tell he was still apprehensive. It HAD been a very long time for him… years, in fact… and, the situation, physically and otherwise, was not at all what he’d been used to…

  
It wasn’t like being in this body was easy for him.

  
For a split second, Jimmy remembered. Remembered Richard’s terrible fear.

Nearly five years ago, at that point…

Only mere days after it all had happened, and Simmons lay in a hospital bed, drugged to the gills so “he” wouldn’t keep being able to have these manic fits of rage and terror-induced self-harm.

Jimmy remembered how the doctor, who was struggling with this strange, unexplainable cover-up that he was being forced to participate in, had snuck him into a private room on a private floor so that he could crawl into the hospital bed with Richie.

He’d wrapped his arms around him, talked to him…

And, when Richie’d fallen asleep…

Soothed by Jimmy’s presence…

Jimmy’d gotten, a bit shakily, out of the bed to walk over to the little hospital tray to refill Richie’s water…

When he heard…

  
“Jimmy.”

  
So low. Nearly inaudible.

But, unmistakably his voice.

_His_ voice.

He’d heard him earlier… but, he’d been screaming and freaking out…

  
Not sane. Not very sane at all.

  
But, this… this was different.

He was calling for him…

So quietly. So despondent.

Like he didn’t think he’d even be able to hear him.

Jimmy’d almost been afraid to turn around. But, of course, he had to.

  
He _needed_ to.

  
He was reaching for him when he did.

Sitting up.

Dazed.

Mind numb from the drugs being pumped into him- into **them**.

Those still small, slim child’s fingers, -so different from that which had been Richard’s own already so long, slender ones-, twitching.

  
And, Jimmy’d gone to him.

Pulled to him by those invisible bonds that would, eventually and ultimately, come to always bind them, and bring them back to each other, again and again.

  
He’d climbed right back onto the bed, and wrapped his arms around him.

- _Him_. Around what was both Richie and Richard, now, and Richard, at that moment-

  
Like he was a small child in need of comfort…

  
And, Richard had wept, brokenly, into Jimmy’s small shoulder. Too frightened, and stoned on whatever they had them on, to put up any fronts.

Whispering over and over, “I’m afraid, I’m so afraid …”

  
But, when he’d started to ask in rapid succession, “Where’s my mother?, Why-Why’d they turn on me? Why-Why- Did _she_ t-turn on me, too? Are they mad cause- I had to do it. Jimmy, I HAD to! And, where am **I**? Where’s **my** bod-”

  
Jimmy had to cut him off. Actually had to press his head down into the crook of his neck, and whisper, “ _Shhh_ …”

And try not to be obvious when he jerked his head toward the not at all well-hidden camera in the corner of the room.

  
The doctor seemed bound and determined to figure out what had happened. What was going on…

Maybe, he even could’ve helped them…

  
But… it was too big of a risk…

  
Could they really have trusted him? And, if they could, and he believed them (And, he may have. He HAD seen some strange, unexplainable things that night, after all.), would he just have an “accident” if they tried to confide in him?

It wasn’t like these things never happened.

Especially, when the powers-that-be had brought forth a decree that could withstand no tampering.

A house of cards build upon a windy beach.

A fallacy spread amongst so many that _knew_ , even if they spoke it not, the truth hidden behind this falsehood.

It really had been simply too big of a risk…

  
Recalling such heartbreaking memories… remembering how far Richard had come to, at least, accepting the situation enough to not freak out, and harm both himself and his brother… but, then, how he’d _suffered_ when Richie couldn’t bear to accept what had happened.

And, had wanted to die, to absolutely DIE, because he believed his actions had led to… to all this.

He wanted Richard with him. He was cradled in the warmth of his self-sacrificing love.  
  
But, the **pain**.  
  
The debilitating, agonizing PAIN.  
  
And, a father who, despite the eradication of all things Richard Simmons II from the books, still hissing in vehement hatred, “Shoulda been YOU, boy. Yer worthless ta’ me! Stupid n’ worthless!”… It wore him down… to a nearly empty, hollow shell.

  
Until Richard, in another sacrifice built upon the very purity of true familial love, had, somehow, taken it all away. Made himself a stranger to the one he loved best, in order to attempt to rebuild his broken spirit. Had to attempt to make himself a stranger to his own _self_ in order to make it stick.

  
And, in the process, he’d lost his only brother. Even though he was closer to him every day than any two brothers could ever be.

But, Richie… Simmons, now… he didn’t know that.

He didn’t know HIM, anymore.

Not as Richard. Not as his brother.

Who had protected, and teased, and spoiled him. Who had always watched out for him. His protectiveness even spilling over to Simmons’ best friend.

And, in the end… well… he protected him still.

But, Simmons didn’t know…

  
Or, did he?

  
A part of him seemed to. A part of him always seemed to… But, then, he seemed to feel like he was losing his marbles, and Richard had to “realign some things”, again… And, Simmons was alright, for a while, but Richard was dejected, brought down low because for a moment… a short moment… even if it’d all been a mess... his brother had _known_ him, again, and he had known _himself_ , and, oh geez,… at some point, the truth HAD to come out…

  
Jimmy held Richard tighter… kissed him… He just wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be happy. And, he really _did_ want to get to take care of him for once. In any way really.

Richard thought it was his job, and was obsessed with taking care of everyone else, -Well, Simmons and Jimmy, anyway-, but it was really time for him to learn that _everything_ didn’t have to be like that...

Especially not between the two of them.  
  
Not when they were like this.

  
Jimmy kissed him, again. Leaning up to wrap his arms even more tightly around the taller boy who leaned down to meet his lips. Their tongues tangling together, even as their slender fingers tangled into one another’s long, silky hair.

  
It had to be the feel of their familiar kiss that, finally, soothed Richard.

And, he sighed in sweet surrender into the smaller boy’s mouth.

Laid back onto the bed, pulling Jimmy right on top of him.

His hands running down his sides to cup his bare bottom-

  
And-

  
And, Holy Cow! Jimmy realized he was still completely _naked!_

We’re talking completely, and totally. Not a stitch on.

He’d been arguing with Richard…

  
Buck. Naked.

  
He couldn’t even believe…

Wow. Just… just frickin’ wow.

  
But, once again, he, suddenly, couldn’t think clearly enough to remember why that might be any kind of issue…

  
Because, Richard was kissing him hungrily. His head propped up on a couple of pillows… his knees bent, hips cocked up… And, with the shorter Jimmy lying on top of him, and in-between his long legs…

  
Richard had started to rock up into him.

  
Jimmy was impressed that he’d found a way to maneuver them where they could line up so perfectly, and still meet each other’s lips…

And, Richard’s hands were _all **over**_ him…

He was, at that particular moment, running his nails just on the side of too hard in that little crease between the smaller boy’s round little bottom and the top of his upper thighs.

And, ohhh, it felt so freaking _gooood_ …

_Mmm-_ B-But, no!

That sneaky s.o.b.! This was supposed to totally be about, and focused on, _Richard_ this time. Not Jimmy.

And, Richard was even still totally dressed!

  
Jimmy moved quick.

  
He was slipping down Richard’s body. A bit hastily cupping him through his pants to distract him so he didn’t simply haul him back up-

Richard jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. Then, simply melted back into the mattress.

He hardly seemed aware when Jimmy pulled off his pants and boxers…

And, although, Jimmy wrapped his hand around the hard length before him, prompting a quiet rumble from the other boy’s throat…

When he looked up, he saw that Richard’s eyes were closed.

And, his expression was… tight. He looked stressed the frick out, again.

  
So, although, he didn’t let go of him, Jimmy reached up with his other hand to gently take ahold of Richard’s restless fingers that were clenching and unclenching into the comforter beneath them-

Richard’s eyes flew open, and met his.

  
“Richard?,” Such a soft whisper, “Relax, okay? Just look at me.”

And, he let a thick collection of salvia slowly drip down past his partially open lips, and down onto the taller boy-

  
He got a pretty nice reaction.

  
He felt Richard’s hard flesh actually _throb_ within the tight ring of fingers that he had curled around, and could, now, more easily slick up and down, him...

But, to be honest, -even though it had helped a lot when Richard had done it, and had felt so, so much better-, it’d, seriously, still been pretty frickin’ embarrassing to freaking _spit_ directly on the taller boy’s longer length rather than just his own hand.

  
He wasn’t sure why he’d gone that route, in particular.

  
Jimmy was _totally_ going to find something… some kind of natural lubricant (Although, did it really get _more_ natural than, uh… whatever.) they could use for next time.

  
He had to admit, though, that, -embarrassment aside-, it had been more than worth it, as Richard’s eyes nearly rolling up in his head, all tension dissipating in an instant, and him _moaning_ loudly and shifting about, almost **squirming** … _whew_ … It’d, uh… it’d been a sight to see.

  
Yep, Richard had actually done that.

For a split second it was like HE was _Jimmy’s_ little “pixie princess”, instead of the other way around…

  
With a distracted kiss pressed right down onto his so wet slit, Jimmy, completely, without meaning to, mused aloud to the taller boy, “You’re still bigger than me.”

Not that he would’ve known that firsthand before Richard’s new… physical situation. But, considering he’d been older than him before all that… it was kinda a no brainer.

  
And, no one should get any weird ideas. Jimmy knew that Richard had _never_ thought of him that way back then.

Although, he’d always seemed to like him alright, and, obviously, appreciated someone being with Simmons (Still known as Richie, at the time.) while he wasn’t around.

But, Jimmy’d just been a kid, still, and Richard hadn’t been a pervert, or something.

No, he’d been a teenager who always had some pretty girlfriend hanging around.

  
Although, they never hung around for long…

  
Jimmy didn’t know if they broke up with him because he was too… intense… or if he broke up with them cause they were using him for his status.

Whatever the case, Jimmy liked to think that even if none of it had happened… if Richard was still just Richard, and Simmons was still just Simmons… and, even though Richard had always seemed to like girls… maybe… maybe, when Jimmy had been old enough…

  
Richard muttered in answer, “Was always gonna be bigger, Little Bean- _Mmm, lil’ faster-_ That was… ah-always gonna be the case.”

  
Rude! That annoyed Jimmy enough that he stopped moving his hand mid-stroke.

Richard, -who had started praising him-, immediately, swore in frustration. But, then, he seemed to realize what he’d said, why Jimmy may have gotten in a snit, and he cajoled, “C’mon, Raven... C’mon, sweet baby, don’t get _mad_. Jus' meant… cause you’re so small-”

  
Jimmy let out an offended huff. Richard was not helping his case here.

  
“No-no. Shit. I mean your _whole body_ , not your **dick**. It really is a more than decent size… ya know, for how little you are.”

Hmph! This _guy_. Unbelievable. He really couldn’t just quit while he was ahead.

And, right when he was starting to seem a little desperate, too.

Cause even though he was still able to rock up into Jimmy’s smaller fist, as the teen wasn’t strong enough to hold him down, and could never be mean enough to let him go…

Now, that Richard had relaxed into it… it, obviously, wasn’t enough.

  
He wanted in his mouth.

  
Jimmy might’ve still been new to all of this, but the way Richard rocked up, and slid his tip against his lips… And, _moaned_ when the smaller boy’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and, just “happened to”, by some strange “coincidence”, brush the head-

  
And, how he’d let go of Jimmy’s hand to bury his fingers into his long raven hair…

His other hand tightly grasping one of the fluffy pillows beneath his head.

All he would’ve had to do was take himself in his hand, and use that handful of Jimmy’s dark hair to pull him down onto him…

  
Jimmy could actually almost _picture_ him doing it…

  
But, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t **really** do it. He really _couldn’t_ bear to touch he and Simmons’ shared body in that particular way.

It was blatantly obvious.

  
Finally, Richard gave in, and softly admitted, “Don’t think my pride… coulda taken it… if you were bigger than me, now… in any way…”

  
And, Richard, in that singular moment, alluding to his “true identity”, so to speak… saying “if you were bigger than me, now” which admitted there had been a time **before** , now… It broke through any and all of the other boy’s defenses.

  
Richard hissed when Jimmy lightly kissed his tip.

And, the smaller boy looked up at him from under his thick, dark lashes, and met those blazing green (Green. They were green. Not blue anymore.) eyes with a little smirk.

He realized Richard wasn’t looking at this body he shared, but at him. He was focused directly and completely on _him_.

  
And, to be really honest?

It made him feel sorta… powerful.

To have such a strong spirited young man capable of such violence (He _had_ seen him fight before, and, although, Jimmy legitimately complained about it for still innocent Simmons’ sake… it was, honestly, kinda awesome. He was so freaking _fast_ and self-assured. No one could lay a hand on him.)…

To have one such as his Richard at his mercy-

It made the smaller boy’s mind light up like a pinball machine.

And, he started to completely silently and internally try to psyche himself up to fill a role not quite suited to him, in particular. Not due to his size, but his personality...

  
-But, darnit, he could try!-

  
_That cocky ol’ Richard thinks he’s the only one who can tease, huh?! He thinks he’s **sooo** tough!_

_Ha! Bet I could tease and torment with the best of them! Have him on pins n’ needles begging, BEGGING- And, then, **may-be** if I’m feeling generous, I’ll have a little mercy on the poor guy._

_Two can play at this little _game_ , Richard! And, I can **totally-**_

To…ta…lly…

_*Hu-uhhh…*_

  
Melt into mind-altering submissiveness when Richard’s other hand joined the first in tangling into his dark, raven strands-

To roughly pull his head further down-

  
-It was like he’d partially read Jimmy’s _mind_ from earlier when he’d kinda fantasized about him doing just that-

  
And, he rubbed the smaller boy’s flushed face all down n’ all _over_ on his junk while Jimmy just **_whined_** like an instantly subdued pup presenting his belly to his undefeated alpha.

When Richard commanded in that dark, persuasive tone, “Open your mouth for me”, the other boy, instantly, obeyed. There wasn’t even another possible choice in the matter.

  
Not when Richard talked like that. 

  
Even if deep down Jimmy knew he could stop anything they were doing with one word, there was simply no way he would’ve wanted to.

He wouldn’t have thought he would ever really LIKE to be told what to do… Well... Not THIS much, anyway, but…

  
Maybe it was Richard’s tone?

  
Though he was, abruptly, giving him orders, “Watch the teeth, Raven”… “Little slower”… “Spit for me, again, sweet baby”… “Use your hand, too”… “Swirl your tongue up ar- _*Quiet Sigh*_ That’s my good boy. Like that. Just like that”… His voice was low, calming. He didn’t bark out orders, but rather softly grumbled or purred them out.

Considering just how aggressive he could be… of what he was capable of…

And, that underlying nervous crackle of internal feedback that always wondered if, and when his control would snap…

  
It was intoxicating.

  
But, when Richard got too close… he actually forgot about his need to control the situation.

And, he got worried, instead.

(He really was a secret sweetheart. If all the super sweet, -sickly sweet in Simmons’ opinion-, nicknames didn’t tell you that, I don’t know what will.)

And, he was managing to get out, though, his voice was strained, “If you don’t, - _fuck_ -, want me to cum in your mouth-”

  
Jimmy just gave him one of his annoyed little puppy growls, and sucked harder.

  
“Ha-Shit- O-Okay, but you don’t have ta’-ta’ swallow just cause I did. That’s-that’s- _Holy fuck, that feels good_ -… uh, like personal preference n’-”

Jimmy let out an irritated huff through his nose. (His mouth was a tad preoccupied, at the moment.) Couldn’t Richard just shush it and enjoy this like he had been a second ago?

He thought of what Richard had done to him, and thought, maybe, he’d like the same… So, his hand stretched up to push at Richard’s shirt (Which he was still wearing for some reason. Maybe, it was the scars? The skin was so pale, now, and they were so faded that you’d hardly notice. But, sometimes, they still bothered both, or either, or, even, all three, of them.), and he shoved at it until Richard got the hint, and, at least, pulled it up for him.

And, HE pinched _Richard’s_ nipple this time (While hardly repressing the urge to climb up his body… press kisses onto those thin, faded white lines…), while trying to copy that amazing swirly trick Richard had done with his tongue-

His rendition must’ve been _more_ than satisfactory, because Richard’s fingers scrambled for a second, as if to find purchase… then, _clenched_ down so **hard** onto the back of Jimmy’s neck and shoulder…

Holding him in place.

And, if Jimmy thought he’d felt that hard length throb before… while it’d been in his hand… it did not _begin_ to compare to how it felt in his mouth. He was so glad Richard was holding him so still, because he could _feel_ , almost seem to **taste** every twitch, every spasm,  every single heavy **_throb_**.

And, his mouth was filling, and he swore it hit the back of his throat HARD, and he could hardly swallow fast enough.

Breathing shallowly through his nose due to how full his mouth was…

  
Amazingly, in spite of Richard’s dirty talk during, when he came, he was, mostly, silent.

Well, as in he didn’t SAY much, anyway. As in not a lot of coherent words.

More like soft-hitched gasps, Jimmy’s name, and half-curses that got lost somewhere along the way…

  
When he, finally, finished, -and it seemed to go on forever-, Jimmy kept him in his mouth. Still so softly sucking. Gently, now.

Thinking to get him to hardness, again, just as Richard had him.

  
But…

  
“Hh-oh, Raven, no. I- I can’t. Came too… too hard… been too long… N-Need a minute…” Richard’s hips were twitching slightly from over-stimulation, despite how very cautious and slow Jimmy’d been with trying to work him up, again...

And, his hands were running through Jimmy’s hair. Actually twirling strands in his fingers like some sleepy kid. Frankly, he sounded like he was close to passing straight the heck out.

  
Jimmy released him with a soft wet _pop_ , and rested his head down on his thigh.

  
Mmm… He’d liked that.

A lot.

He was grateful Richard had thought to pull him up off him at least a little bit, -right by the roots of his hair, right at the last second, before his hands had clamped down on him-, so he didn’t choke… That'd been very... considerate...of him.  
  
Huh. Wow... Richard being all thoughtful n' stuff...  
  
Unlike Jimmy, who’d, without thought, arched and thrust even _deeper_ , and harder into Richard’s mouth as his passion was spent…

  
Um… Oops?

  
But, of course… Jimmy wasn’t, erm, ya know, as big as him. Not that there was THAT huge of a difference at that point ( _*Pout*_ There wasn’t! Not… not really…), but, uhm… Richard resided in a body that was already becoming, and would become, uh… nicely “gifted”, shall we say, in that area, while Jimmy would feel lucky to eventually, at least, nearly break average (Rounding up.), so… yeah… Jimmy’d never outmatch him, or even _match_ him, in that department.

But, despite the smaller boy’s petite stature, that, in particular, was never really an issue. As, even some years down the line, Richard always proved to be more conscientious (Or, maybe more of a motherhenning worrywart.) when it came to... particular things... than even Jimmy would've originally expected him to be. 

  
All the smaller boy knew was that Richard’s thorough thoughtfulness, along with his ability to, instantly, take control, and over-power him, blended together in such a way as to make his heart race, and his knees go weak…

  
Jimmy giggled quietly without meaning to. He just felt _giddy_. Perhaps, even, a touch light-headed.

  
Then, Richard was reaching down for him.

  
“ Hmm, c’mere, brat… _fuck_ … needed that… so much,” Richard more breathed than said the words, before hauling the other boy up his body until they were face to face. Nearly groaning at the feel of his bare flesh sliding up against his.

And, his hands were in his hair, again. His tongue delving into his mouth…

The smaller boy startled, then, froze… But, being so accustomed to, so at ease with Richard’s familiar touch, he quickly lost himself to the moment.

When Richard laid back, -humming, nearly purring, in quiet satisfaction like the cat that stole the cream-, Jimmy looked dazedly down at him, but still ended up asking, like he'd _just_ realized it this time around, “You-you kissed me?”

“So?,” Richard leaned up to kiss him, again, -one hard smackeroo-, for good measure, “I always kiss you.”

“But… is that… okay? When we just… ya know…”

“What? Sucked each other’s dicks?”

“Richard!,” Jimmy yanked back in shock at Richard’s blasé response. Though, at this point, it was really more reflex than anything else.

“What? You not want me to?,” the taller boy asked, looking at him drowsily, but still curiously.

“To what?”

“Kiss you.”

“Of course I want you to kiss me!,” Jimmy sounded _beyond_ offended that he’d even asked.

“I meant AFTER we do it, Jimmy. For fuck’s sake, keep up.”

“Oh. I mean, I DO, but…,” he couldn’t help but sound uncertain, “Is that weird, though? Is it okay?”

“When you gonna get it through… _*yaawwnn*_ … your head? WE say what’s okay. Now, comere.”

  
He pulled him back to him, turned him, and maneuvered them around until he was spooning him, again. Jimmy’s back pressed to his chest with Richard curled protectively around him.

And, Richard pressed a kiss into Jimmy’s soft, dark hair, “Love you, Jimmy Bean.”

“Mmm,” Jimmy hugged so tightly onto the arm the other boy had wrapped around his chest, “I love you, too, Richard.”

  
The room was silent for so long that Richard surely thought Jimmy’d fallen asleep.

Until-

  
“…Will it… always be like this?”

His voice was so low that even with how close they were, it took Richard a second to decipher what the other boy had even said.

Once he did, he, unthinkingly, replied, with a quiet laugh, “Hmm… _*Yaaawn*_ Sounds like a line outta a cheesy movie…”

Jimmy didn’t respond.

And, Richard kissed his bare shoulder, still tiredly teasing. “Ahh, is my sweet baby havin' the post-sex jitters? Mm… Cute.”

When Jimmy still didn’t answer, Richard must’ve realized he’d, possibly, though completely accidently (Again, Richard really wasn’t the type to be cruel just for the heck of it.), sounded a little patronizing.

  
And, he had to have realized that Jimmy was seriously worried about what the future held for people in a situation such as theirs.

  
So, he turned him onto his back, and leaning over to kiss him gently, he murmured, “I don’t know, Raven. But, somehow, we’ll figure it out. Whatever happens, no matter what, we’ll always be together. Alright? No matter what bullshit life throws at us, we’ll always be together in the end. I promise.”

“E-End?,” the smaller teen looked nervous, “End of what?”

“Mmm… I dunno. It’s an expression. It means… I won’t let you go. It means we won’t let each other go. Ever. No matter what it takes. Means we’ll always find each other if one of us gets lost. We’ll always have each other’s backs...”

  
Richard pressed his lips to Jimmy’s forehead for a long, tender moment, before flopping, languidly, back onto the bed.

  
And, wrapping his arm around him, he pulled the smaller boy up against his side.

When Jimmy rested his head onto his chest, Richard sunk slender fingers into long, raven locks, and held him to him.

Only then did he continue, attempting to come across as nonchalant, but mostly, just sounding content, “Ya know… a buncha sappy shit like that…”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧-WAIT!

  
“…Oh, crap! Richard, don’t fall asleep! We have ta’ get dressed!,” Jimmy exclaimed in a mini-panic.

“Nah. This is nice,” He slipped his hand out of the other boy's dark hair. Down smooth, pale skin. Ran his palm over the slender, completely bare and so slim curve of his hip… “Jus' keep the door locked for now. Nobody's due back for a while-”

“I’m not talking about **them**. Simmons. _Simmons_ , Richard. You know how, sometimes, he wakes up before you do, or when you do. We can’t be all- all _naked_ together when Simmons wakes up!” Jimmy was, obviously, scandalized by the very _idea_ , “You know he doesn’t want to know anything about any of this stuff, and he’s too young to know, anyway! And-”

_“Alright_. Alright, already,” Richard agreed, but made no move to release him, or to get up.

Jimmy wiggled against him, “Well? So you gonna let me go?”

“I **Told. You.** I’ll never let you go,” he answered in too solemn, too quietly possessive a tone. Serious til death and beyond undertones hung thick in the air between them.

  
Which sounds overdramatic. But, in a situation such as theirs? Maybe, not so much.

  
The smaller boy stopped his fruitless, half-hearted struggles against Richard’s too strong a hold, and replied in so docile a tone, “I meant right now… Just to get dressed, alri- _ha-ighT_ …”

  
Richard just pulled Jimmy overtop him to sit, all creamy and entirely bare, right on top of his own equally bare lap.

  
His hands locked onto his hips to press his promptly panting “pixie princess” flush against his hardening flesh as he rocked into, and pressed himself up against him.

And, Jimmy leaned down some, instinctively putting them at a good angle... Feeling them line up so smoothly, so perfectly against each other…

His palms ended up pressed to Richard’s chest, hands pushing his shirt up even more…

And, as he balanced on him, rocking down onto, and hardening up nicely alongside him... he gave in to temptation.

  
And, he leaned down to run his tongue and lips gently over the thin, white scars.

  
Richard exhaled quietly. One hand releasing Jimmy’s hip to run up his back. His side. Up in-between their bodies, to his boy’s chest.

Lightly pinching those so sensitive little nipples like he knew the smaller boy loved. Making him shiver as sharp gasping cries started to escape his swollen, pink lips...

“Later… We’ll get dressed later…” Richard promised, voice low and soft. Hand moving further up. To cup his face. Then, to run his thumb down his nose. Down to trace his lips, and trail down his chin, his throat… And, softly tap his upper chest, “Not feeling so tired, after all…” 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  


Remembering that day in his sunlit, locked room (Locked despite no one else being home. Just to be extra safe…)... it really did seem like it'd been so long ago... when Richard’d finally let them start to… to…

God, they’d been wild for each other.

Over and over…

  
Despite their physical age, considering how long and how often they’d been together (Literally, living together at Jimmy’s nearly always empty, -but for the three, at times two, of them-, house every weekend from Friday after school thru Sunday afternoon for _years_ , now.), and with Richard’s history… it felt like it’d taken forever for them to get to that point.

  
Although, Richard would end up telling him, in one of his exceedingly rare moments of not hiding his true self behind a mask of denial, that that was because the situation was undeniably different… BUT, also, because _Jimmy_ was different.  
  
And, not because he was physically a boy. But, because he actually meant something to Richard… meant so much to him… was so very important to him…

Only Jimmy truly knew how sweet, and loving this violent, dangerous boy could be… 

  
_*Sigh*..._

  
But, wait! What was he doing? Why was Jimmy letting himself get lost in his thoughts, right now?! Letting himself be lulled into a, currently, false sense of security in the warmth of Richard's arms... Again! Like it was just any other day…

It wasn't the time for reminiscing! They were in trouble! So much trouble…

  
“Rich-ard,” Jimmy tried to push him back from nuzzling into his neck. He wasn’t nearly as strong as him, so really he just pushed back, and pressed his hands against his chest in a signal to “back up”, and Richard moved slightly back of his own accord to look questioningly at him.

Strangely enough, Richard, while completely controlling Simmons’ slim body, was much, MUCH stronger than Simmons, and, therefore, of course, since even Simmons, himself, was stronger than the “pretty pixie princess”, as Richard jokingly, but affectionately, _still_ called him… Richard could overpower him in a second if he really wanted to… Jimmy swallowed hard, and nervously mumbled, “You _know_ I want to, but I’m not sure we have time to… you know… right now, and… and I’m… I’m so worried! Something’s really wrong- like, _worse_ than usual. It’s more than this ‘camp’ thing, or whatever it is. They’ve been threatening us with that for what feels like forever! But, now… it’s- it was  almost like he knew… really knew… And, if they find out- if they know about you and Simmons… with the things you’ve done, and here you’re ‘possessing’ Simmons, or whatever it is you’re doing-”

  
Richard had been about to ask the obvious ‘Almost like who knew? Knew about what _exactly?_ ’, but the word “possessing”, distracted him completely.

And, he was pulling back, as much as he could, with the smaller boy wrapped around him, so that he could furiously insist, “That’s not what’s happening!”

  
“Then, what-?”

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

  
Silence.

  
Finally, Jimmy spoke, so gently, “I wanted to try to talk to Simmons about this, because I’m not sure you can… handle it… But… please, Richard? Just listen? With what your father did to your guys’ arm, and how it’s- it’s finally better… I mean, it hasn’t been getting re-infected, and putting you guys back in the hospital for a while, now-, I think- I think you should go. Take Simmons back home to your mother…”

“Mother! That bitch was there!,” Richard ranted, releasing one of Jimmy’s upper thighs to very suddenly and furiously slam a fist into the wall beside the smaller boy’s hip, “She LET him do it, Jimmy! Fuck her-”

  
“Richard. Stop,” Jimmy reached down, and grabbed his clenched fist before he could slam it into the wall, again… And, brought it to his lips. Pressed soft kisses to the infuriated other boy’s sure to be bruised knuckles, so softly, over and over, until Richard, finally, let out a trembly breath, and gently cupped his cheek.

  
Jimmy’s arms wrapped, even tighter, back around Richard’s neck, as he pulled him closer. Not afraid. Only determined. Tipping his head up to press his lips to Richard’s, again, and again, until he’d calmed down completely enough to really kiss him back.

  
All soft lips, and warm, wet tongues. 

  
They’d kissed, and touched so many times, at this point, it was like second-nature to fall into the other’s rhythm, and movement. Sharing each other’s breath and warmth. Sharing a connection so deep that it seemed unexplainable and inescapable.

But… unfortunately, there was, once again, something that absolutely had to be said. And, no matter how much Jimmy wanted to forget about it, to push it aside for another day as Richard always wanted him to… No matter how much he wanted to lose himself and all his worries in Richard’s arms… Things had changed. They were “caught”. And, there was only one way out. For all of them.

So, when they, finally, parted for some air, and Richard rested his forehead against his, although it made him want to sob, because he KNEW how upset, how angry Richard would be with him all over, again, and all he wanted was his love, and for the three of them to be safe, and to be together… To always be together… Jimmy quietly said, “Not Richie’s mother, Richard. I said _your_ mother. You need to take Simmons back home to your mother.”

  
Richard jerked back, again, only able to get so far without untangling the other boy from him.

  
Him jolting back like that? That wasn’t surprising.

It was the look on Richard’s face that was more than startling…

It was…

  
Fear.

  
Glaring. Unadulterated. Stark.

His hand left the smaller teen’s cheek to rest, palm flat, on the wall to the side of his head. But, not before Jimmy felt the sudden trembling in his fingers.

And, despite the shock of such a different reaction than the one he’d expected, Jimmy knew this was the crux of it.

  
How could Richard convince himself, convince _Simmons_ who, with Richard’s so evident brother complex, he’d always loved to a fault, that none of their past was true?

And, that he, that HE, Richard Simmons Jr., as their own father, as the Church itself, had inexplicably decreed, had never existed? (Did he really hate himself, and who he’d been, _that_ much? To continue to go along with such a farce… He couldn’t claim it was simply to protect Simmons from the truth, anymore. Because, now, the lies hurt him just as much…)

  
What… What was it about Richard that everyone was _hiding?_ Jimmy remembered how even the doctor on call at the hospital that night, -who wasn’t affiliated with the Church-, had been in a state of shock about how quickly **they** ’d swooped in, and closed ranks. Even his own nurses. Covered everything up in the most shocking, and confusing of ways…

  
And, there Richard was, who’d gone completely stark raving mad for a time in the beginning of it all, -which Simmons didn’t recall, thank goodness-, refusing to allow himself to remember the truth… But, then, if he DID allow himself to truly remember, for more than singular moments in time, who he really was, regardless of it not making sense…

How could he keep lying to himself, to **Simmons** , his little, -half or not-, _brother_ , and how could he, then, not allow himself to remember his own mother?

  
Jimmy saw him, parted lips trembling, bite down on his tongue as though biting back words that desperately wanted to escape.

  
And, the smaller boy’s slim fingers curled tightly into deep red hair (He knew how Richard, -and Simmons, as well-, needed to be “anchored”, so to speak, into a moment, at times.).

Just curling into that shiny red hair that was so different than Richard’s originally incredibly similarly colored, yet, shorter than Jimmy’s own (Well, not anymore…) dark raven strands…

Finally, Richard forced out, so, instantly, enraged that even Jimmy, with his inherent trust in him, had to recoil back against the wood paneling behind him, “What the fuck are you- You little fucker… You. Little. Fucker… _That’s_ what you were going to tell him?… You think that’s BETTER? Call me a demon all day long, Jimmy, I don’t give a fuck! I’d prefer that shit any day over- But, don’t- I can’t- I can’t believe you… I TOLD YOU NOT TO-”

  
Oh, not this, again. Deny, deny, deny. Rage, instead of accept. It was SO Richard, and it drove the smaller teen to absolute distraction. It was one thing to have to watch someone you loved self-destruct. To continually go back to refusing to accept the reality of their situation, regardless of how off the wall it was.

That was traumatizing enough. But, _Simmons’_ life, his future, was truly on the line now, too!

  
Jimmy had to be strong. For Simmons’ sake, now, as well as theirs.

  
He took a deep breath, and _made_ himself say the following words, “Richard, she was just here last week.”

“N-No,” the taller teen gasped.

“ **Yes.** She was. By the water. By where- where it happened. She was so sad! The two of you were so close! She was even close with Richie before all this happened. Richie always said she wanted to take him away from here to live with you guys, and that she was more like a mother to him than his own even though he hardly ever got to see her. She always told him he was so smart, and there was _nothing_ shameful about being smart. And, he shouldn’t believe your guys’ f-father when he said terrible things to him, because he’d always been that way, and-and… I always wished I had a mom like her, too. She always seemed so nice and cool! Like somebody- somebody who really cared-”

“Jimmy… please… I… I don’t want- I can’t-” Richard’s voice was trembling, but Jimmy soldiered on.

“And, she IS. She really is so, so nice! I wanted to tell her so, so badly! About YOU! About you so she wouldn’t be so _sad!_ I wanted to tell YOU about her coming here, but… And, she took such a chance coming here! I can’t believe she even _dared_ to do it! I know you feel like she betrayed you, too, or something, but I’m telling you it doesn’t seem like- I think she was afraid of what your father might do with... I... I don't know... I think she was trying to protect you? That's... That's the way it seemed... All I know for sure is that your guys’ father is really after her, because of what happened at the hospit-… Anyway, she wanted to see Richie, but you guys were still at school, I guess. I don’t know who let her in, but- but I… I talked to her-”

The fear on Richard’s face was, once more, rapidly replaced with wrath, “Son of a… Of course, you did! Of. Course! You and your fucking mouth! I’m so sick of it, Jimmy! You know what’d be nice? You know what I wish? That you’d jus' learn to shut up! Shut your goddamn big mouth, so I wouldn’t ever have to listen to your GODDAMN nagging, EVER AGAIN!”

Oh, how he would come to regret those words. To regret each and every time he told his sweet soon-to-be almost entirely silent boy to “…shut the fuck up, Jimmy…”, or to “…shut your fuckin’ noisy little mouth…”, or even the incredibly rude “You’re like a frickin’ yappy little puppy. Just _annoying_ , Jimmy…”

A time would come, in the so near future, that his Jimmy Bean being able to say something as simple (Yet, not for him, not anymore…) as Richard’s name would cause the normally so arrogant, aggressive other boy to weep in sorrow, and incredible gratitude… Just for the opportunity to hear the one he loved speak to him… to hear his voice, again… to hear his own name from his beloved lips…

  
But, of course, you must remember that they had no crystal ball to warn them of what was coming.

  
So Richard was harsh, and furious.

As he’d been before.

And, Jimmy winced at his painful words.

As he had before.

  
An endless circle soon to be broken in the most vicious of ways…

  
But, Jimmy was too busy bemoaning Richard so flippantly using the Lord’s name in vain, _again_ , to even begin to think of such things. Because, he couldn’t help but think that what- what if Richard WAS being given a chance at redemption because of what he’d done? But, what if God, if angered, could instantly turn as cruel and unforgiving as the Church taught?

Could Richard, just instantly, be dragged to the pits of Hell for his sins by a fed-up, vengeful Lord?…

Or, maybe, Richard and Simmons were right, and Jimmy shouldn’t just believe in all that just because it was what they’d all been told, in one form or another, since birth?

  
He didn’t know.

But, he wasn’t willing to risk Richard’s soul, his very continued existence, on it.

  
Jimmy bit his lip. Bit back the hurt, the irritated words that bubbled up in his throat. Reminded himself that this, at least, was nothing new. He was used to Richard losing it whenever he came too close to facing what he still refused to accept.

Instead, he calmly reminded him, “This is the first time I’ve brought any of this up in almost a year, Richard. And, she was very, very nice. She said-she said if things ever get too bad we, -even, even me-, can go stay with her-”

“JIMMY!,” Richard sounded appalled… but he still _looked_ … scared, again. Scared to death…

  
And, Jimmy lost any self-control he had left, and fingers sliding out of his hair to clamp frantically, almost painfully, down onto Richard’s shoulders, he blurted, “Please, Richard! I’m so scared! I- I love you! I don’t wanna lose you! Either of you! You two are everything to me! And- And I HATE how we can hardly see each other, anymore, and how we’re in trouble, -We were already in trouble before this! That’s why they pulled me outta the school! Why your father broke your guys’ arm!-, In trouble- In trouble! Cause they suspect we’re- we’re ‘f-faggots’, -I HATE that word!-, cause they think we aren’t enough like ‘normal boys’! And-And- WHY- Why can’t we be ourselves?! So what if we’re boys! Maybe- Maybe it’s hard to… to relate so much to- I don’t know, to having a-a ‘girly side’, or whatever- maybe that still feels wrong to me, but- but THIS? This thing with us? How can loving someone, caring about them, how can _that_ ever be wrong, or sinful?!”

“Jimmy,” Richard’s voice was softer, now, but Jimmy couldn’t seem to stop. His fists clenched into Richard’s shirt as his legs tightened around him.

“And, I hate- I HATE how whenever we sneak away to be together, and you let me and Simmons hang out for- for a while- I hate how you have to blank it from him! We’ve been best friends for almost _ten years_ , Richard! That’s- That’s not fair! I already almost lost him, lost _both_ of you, over five years ago! I DID lose him for a- You know, he was- he was-… And, now, after all that- that NIGHTMARE! The water, and the rocks, and the blood, and, now, they want to keep us apart! And, you have to make Simmons think- make him think, even after we’ve seen each other, that he **hasn’t** seen me- How long can this… It’s been going on for so long!”

  
Richard’s head had bowed as he silently listened to the other teen. Everything Jimmy said…  was true…

  
When the smaller boy fell silent, breathing hard from the force of his outburst, Richard sighed heavily.

And, he cupped Jimmy’s face. In both hands, now. As was typical of him, completely forgetting his anger in the face of the other boy’s deep distress, and kissing him gently, “Jimmy Bean… I know it sucks, but… it’s the best I can do, right now.”

The smaller teen’s lips trembled against his as Richard kissed him, again… but, he couldn’t help but whisper, “That’s… not true. Is it? You… you could take us to your mo-… But-But, you won’t. You won’t. And, now, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, and I- and I-”

  
And, then… he just couldn’t take it anymore, and he was _sobbing_.

Absolutely, uncontrollably.

Shaking in fear of HIM.

  
Of… Of Senior.

  
Of what he could do…

Of what he HAD done.

  
Because, it wasn’t Jimmy’s own father who had beat these bruises and welts into him. Who had advanced on him with such malicious intent that Jimmy had, unthinkingly and _stupidly_ , whimpered Richard’s name aloud in a hopeless plea for help.

It wasn’t his father who had frozen in place, then, _roared_ in fury, large fists clenching, “YOU! You _know_ , doncha?! You were THERE! WHERE IS HE?! Where she bin hidin’ him, ya little faggot?!”

  
…No, it… it hadn’t been his father…

  
But, Richard’s.

And, Simmons’.

Firing veiled accusations at him that Jimmy could _swear_ were about **Richard** , although that didn’t even make sense.

How could he _possibly_ suspect?

What made him think such a thing was even remotely a probability?

Jimmy could scarcely have believed it himself if he hadn’t been there. SEEN it all happen with his own two eyes.

And, despite his ol’ boy downhome county way of speaking, and carrying himself, Simmons Senior was no fool. Not quick to “frivolous fantasies”.

  
But, fiercely intelligent.

And, vicious.

Just vicious.

  
He had used his southern charm and mannerisms to lull many a naïve outsider, and even unsuspecting member, into complacency and ruin.

  
But, despite that, Jimmy still couldn’t even begin to understand how, in the wake of such tragedy, this man had disavowed, even to the point of discounting his very _existence_ , his own first-born son.

Even if that son _had_ been born to a woman other than his Church-approved bloodline-aligned wife, and, therefore, within the Church records was not the “heir apparent” so to speak. (Although, you’d never have known that considering the level of favoritism that’d been shown....)

How could he have been so heartless? (Or, had he really had that much to hide? And, if so, what?)

And, after doing such a thing, why was he, now, so vehement? So wild-eyed, and desperate at the sound of Richard’s name?

  
Regardless of what any of that might mean, the horrifying thought of what _**they**_ might do if they thought Simmons was “harboring another spirit” or anything remotely like that… it was enough to steal the breath from Jimmy’s lungs.

  
But, as it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about what to say to any of that, in a way, as once Senior got ahold of him, had those frightening large, long-fingered hands on him, he seemed to simply drop that topic altogether.

It was as if Richard had never been mentioned. As if it had been Simmons (Still "Richie" to his father.), and only Simmons that was the “tarnished” son in question.

  
(But, Jimmy should’ve known better than that. And, he knew that later.)

  
And, Senior was fixated, instead, -as he shook the small boy like a toddler throwing a tantrum with their Raggedy Ann doll-, on the idea that Jimmy was a “painted whore”, and a “filthy fag”, and a “fuckin’ freak” that had _dared_ to tamper with his “bloodline”.

Jimmy didn’t even know what else he said. He was too terrified. He just cried out, “Sorry! Sorry!”, over and over. Incidentally, confirming things he didn’t realize in the moment he was confirming.

  
Like his relationship with Senior’s son. 

  
Although, not the one he thought. Senior _really_ couldn’t have assumed correctly, or have, seriously, been piecing things together about Simmons and Richard…

That was… was nuts… Improbable. Too frightening to be true.

Jimmy’d surely misunderstood. Fear bred into paranoia...

At least, that’s what Jimmy had almost convinced himself of, by the time Senior had dragged him to the bathroom. Supposedly, to “wash that muck off’ his face.

  
But, instead-

  
He’d shoved him to his knees, right on the cold tile floor, cursing and spitting at him to “Pray, boy. Even if yer kind hates the Lord n’ his blessed sacrifice. Repent for your father’s sake if not yer own”…

And, something in Jimmy had boiled and fired to life.

So easy to assume that Jimmy didn’t believe in Christ! That he didn’t love the Lord just because he was “different”! Well, maybe, he was learning that he DIDN’T believe in the version of Christ they portrayed, who was seeming more and more like the Devil in disguise! Maybe, he-

He’d stopped crying. On his knees before a man who may as well have been a giant compared to him.

He may have, momentarily, lost his mind, because he was _fuming_. On a deep, spiritual, existential level.

  
_How dare he … HOW DARE HE._

  
Questioning HIS, Jimmy’s, own core values, which he questioned enough on his own as it was! Arrogantly doubting his personal relationship with Christ because he was a “cross-dressing fag”.

_Hateful! Hateful! Nothing like the Lord of the New Testament-_

  
Everything he thought, he was wise enough to keep inside…

  
But, apparently, even his silence would not do.

  
And, the man, who looked so _exactly_ like his Richard had (Maybe, it was vice versa.), like a carbon copy replica, only all grown up and grown old… burned out from too much stress and too much alcohol…

Had snatched his long raven locks, that his Richard so loved to run his fingers through...

Viciously yanked him over closer-

Slammed the toilet seat up-

And, pushed him down…

  
It all happened so... quickly.

  
And, then Senior was nearly drowning Jimmy in the _toilet bowl_.

(Because that’s “where unrepentant dirty, filthy boys _belong_ ”.)

Shoving him back in over and over.  
  
Only bothering to pull him out of the blue, chemical-filled water, again, when, nails scrabbling and scratching frantically back into his terrifyingly too strong arms, he was sure that this time he truly wouldn’t. 

  
Until he stopped fighting, went limp in submission...

  
Something in him… despite the lack of the proper amount of oxygen getting to his brain… something in him _knew_ that with how insane and determined to come out on top in every encounter Senior was... that was his only hope… 

  
And, as soon as he gave in, he was wrenched entirely out…

  
“Devil’s strong in you, boy.” The so tall man looked at him through azure eyes the same shade Richard's had been... and he almost sounded strangely _proud_.

  
No.  
  
Fricking NO.

  
And, no matter how much the teenager's head spun from lightheadedness, and the terrible, aching pain through-out his so slender, small-boned frame, he knew... In that moment he knew.  
  
These people- People that would do such things while claiming such piety- _They_ were the "devils". Actual devils walking the earth. To think Richard had ever been, rather unwillingly or not, amongst their ranks. Had walked their halls, and done their dirty deeds…

  
Still sputtering and gasping urgently for breath… gagging on his terror and inherent disgust… Jimmy, nonetheless, looked up.

Up, up, up.

Right into those intensely blue eyes.

That something in him recognized on such a deep, visceral level, and wanted to love-

But, luckily, his heart knew better.

  
And, despite everything, he managed to say, -it came from somewhere so deep within him-, “The **_Lord_** is my God-”

  
“ **Silence, _apostate_** ,” Senior’d barked out.

-And, just that quickly he'd been pulling out, and flicking open his pocket knife-

  
**_*Snick*_**

  
Jimmy’d never forget the sound…

  
And, thankfully, he hacked off his long raven locks, rather than slit his throat.

Perhaps, Jimmy thought later… he should just count himself lucky to still be alive...  
  
  
So, no. It hadn’t been HIS father who had terrorized and tortured him for hours upon hours. As he wheezed and gagged at his feet.

Butchered, soaked hair plastered to his small, fragile skull.

That he was well aware that the man (monster) before him could have clasped in his palms, and crushed against the porcelain bowl beside him on a whim…

  


The so tall man (Jimmy thought he had to be around 6' 2"-6'3" with those snakeskin boots adding another couple of inches...) had really succeeded in getting inside his head. Making him start to feel that everything about him as a person, everything about a relationship between two “boys of the blood”, -even two who loved, and were devoted to each other-, was unforgivably _wrong_ , and filthy, and disgusting. When everything in his heart knew different.

Then, when he’d ran into Senior in the Church foyer the day before… he’d looked right through him… As if none of it had even happened.

As if Jimmy was supposed to pretend none of it _had_ happened…

  
And, he’d still been numb. In a state of shock. Willing to let himself believe it’d all been a horrific nightmare.

  
But, when Simmons had showed up outta the blue… only a couple days after everything, only a DAY after Jimmy’d last seen his father… He’d felt that quiet desperation that only one who has lived through such fear and tragedy can truly understand.

And, he’d been willing to say **anything** to get Simmons angry. Riled up. _Defensive._ To pierce through that suit of armor that Richard had encased him in, as well as Simmons’ own stubborn nature that he and Richard shared.

  
It was weird, but he truly really only listened, anymore, when he was too frustrated to hide behind Richard’s well-meaning lies.

  
But, Jimmy’d still been too messed up in his head. Thinking that anything he said could get back to Senior (And, he would NEVER have blamed Simmons for that. He more than understood how terrifying his father was.), and he’d just succeeded in scaring him, instead of- DAMMIT! He’d wanted to get through to Simmons, somehow, and it was a tricky game to play with how progressively deeper Richard had repressed everything.

And, then, there was Richard, shoving Simmons back. “Protecting” him, and really, rightfully, with how ill-informed he was regarding the true situation, furious. And, Jimmy’s head was still a mess from Senior’s tactics. His sick games. His-

  
Oh, if Richard found out all, or ANY, of what Senior had done to him… And, of what he’d almost done… Which he couldn’t even let himself _think_ about...

  
It seemed insane that it’d been, not his father, but his boyfriend’s  & his best friend’s father, who had… _corrected_ him.

Although, come to think of it, it may as well have been his father who’d done it all. He’d _allowed_ it, hadn’t he? Took one silent, disappointed look at him dressed up so prettily… And, walked out. Left him alone with that-that sick, twisted monster…

Now, Jimmy truly understood, more than ever before, how Simmons must have felt (Although, Richard wouldn’t let him remember it.) when his mother had done the same. Jimmy supposed he should just be grateful that he didn’t have an arm broken in two places. Broken so badly that the bone had pierced right through, and out of the skin.

  
The thought of all that only made Jimmy cry harder.

  
And, Richard couldn’t take it, anymore. He was shocked to see him this afraid, this _petrified_ …

Suddenly, he was crushing the smaller boy against him, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, and carrying him over to the bed to sit down with him wrapped so tightly around him. 

Murmuring in his ear, in-between pressing gentle, comforting kisses to his lips, his forehead, his cheeks… _“Shhh_ … Raven, it’ll be okay… C’mon, sweet baby, you’re alright…”

  
And, when faced with one of the only people in the world that he loved, other than Simmons, being in that much pain… he had to give in, 

“A-Alright. Alright, Jimmy, we’ll… we’ll go… go back ho-”

The breath was nearly knocked out of him. That was how hard the smaller boy, practically, slammed their bodies together. Squeezing him so, so tightly, “Th-Thank you, thank y-you, thank y-,” he whispered brokenly over and over into Richard’s ear.

“It’s not… that big a deal…,” Richard mumbled, sounding distinctly uncomfortable, “But… look… a lot of things have… gotten… fuzzy…”

  
Even in his still terror-filled state, Jimmy had to bite back the accusation that THAT was because of all his years of blocking and repressing everything, not just from Simmons, but from himself-

He pulled back, and, -in-between Richard reaching over him for the tissue box on the bedside table, and wiping his tears and nose as if he was a child-, he managed to get out between sniffs, and obediently blowing his nose into the tissue when Richard ordered him to ‘blow’…, “It’s-It’s alright… She- She gave me her number, and I remember the basic… area. I don’t know if you remember, but I went with Simmons to your mom’s family property, and we stayed there a couple weeks that summer before it... it all happened… She was really busy, so you watched us a lot. They said it was so we could get out, and meet people in other communities, but there was some upheaval in the compound at the time, so I’m SURE they just wanted us outta the way for some reason…”

  
“Sure, sure…” Richard said quickly. He could NOT deal with talking about THAT, at the moment, “Well, if we’re doin' this, we better get a fuckin’ move on already. I’ll go get some shit together at the house, and come back n’ get you-”

“NO!,” Jimmy cried out in obvious panic.

“No? Whaddya mean ‘no’?,” the taller teen looked beyond confused.

“Please, Richard! Don’t go back there. What if HE’S there?! I know some part of you _still_ trusts him cause of how different things were between you and him, but it isn’t the same with him and Richie! He always couldn’t stand him, and after what happened… He BLAMES Richie-”

  
“Simmons,” Richard corrected, quietly.

  
“Whatever! That’s not the point, Richard, and you know it!,” One aggravated snort from a small dark-haired teen… “Just- just- You aren’t his sidekick, anymore! His partner in crime! His-"

Richard snorted right back at him. “Holy shit. You’re SO overdramatic.”

  
Jimmy was getting extremely distressed, again. Richard’s blasé attitude was terrifying, “Please-Please. You _always_ think you know best. Can’t you take what me or Simmons have to contribute into consideration once in a while? Why don’t you ever _listen_.”

“I AM listening. But, I gotta go get stuff together. I don’t jus' _happen_ ta' have the credits we stashed with me… Listen, why don’t you come with me, then? We’ll grab some a' your crap, an' then go by the house-”

“No! No! I- I- Your father… he’s-”

  
“Raven,” Richard’s touch was gentle. Holding him close. Rubbing his back, soothingly. Completely oblivious as to the actual reason why the smaller boy was as frightened as he was, now. Chalking it up to the fear of them being caught together. At a time like this, when they were going to, finally, try to get out. “He shouldn’t be around, right now.”

But, Jimmy couldn’t bear to chance it. If he was there… if he was…

  
He _couldn’t_ see them together.

  
When Jimmy didn’t answer, Richard sighed, “Alright… fuck, alright. You stay n’ pack. We’ve talked about this before. You know what we need- Awh- Raven, zip it! Don’t you start arguin' with me. I’ll be quick, okay? Now, how long ‘til your parents are due back?”

“Not ‘til tonight,” Jimmy answered, his voice subdued, “…but-”

“No, buts. Do you wanna do this, or not? Cause, you have to know for sure, and-”

“We have no choice!,” the other teen cried out vehemently.

“There’s _always_ a choice, Jimmy.”

“No!... No… Not if we want to be able to be ourselves, or to be together, ALL of us, all three of us, again. Like a _family_ , again… or… or if we want to have any chance of being SAFE-”

  
Richard touched the smaller boy’s now-short, terribly cut raven hair (Looked like it’d been hacked off, or something…). It was still past his ears, but it’d gotten so long while he’d been outta the school, and had been so beautiful…

  
He let out a soft breath, “Yeah… I know…”

And, with that, he went to pull the other boy off his lap. To go get things moving. They had to get their shit together, and get the fuck out. 

  
Luckily, he knew secret ways around, and in and out of the compound, and- 

  
As Richard's hands slid down, down to his beloved boy’s waist to lift him off him, he felt Jimmy’s so gentle touch. His slim fingers on the side of his face.

And, when he looked into his so dark, nearly black eyes… getting lost in them, as he had so many times before… Jimmy softly whispered with that depth of feeling that one so often only has, and understands in the midst of so young and pure a love, “I love you, Richard.”

  
And, if he had known that that was one of the last times, in more years than he dared to count, that he would ever really hear this sweet boy, -that drove him nuts, right up the wall, in every which, ultimately, wonderful way-, be capable of saying not just that, but even just his name, so clearly… he could never have left him.

He could never have taken the chance, that he didn’t even register he was taking (And, he’d hate himself for that, too. For falling so neatly into the trap.), at all.

  
As it was, his boy’s words did, at the very least, serve to hold him up. Because, now that they were on the same page, they had some time, at least… Well, who knows if they really did as they were unwitting pawns to another one of Senior’s little ploys. Little plots. So, it likely wouldn’t have mattered when they tried to leave.

  
Considering that, Richard, nor Jimmy, could ever regret the extra time they spent together. 

  
Not talking about plans, or packing, or the past.

  
But, simply wrapped around each other.

  
Although, Jimmy, strangely enough, -in Richard’s opinion, at the time-, insisted on keeping his clothes mostly on, and wanted the room dark and the lights off.

But, Richard was always one to oblige him when it really came down to it. And when the smaller boy claimed he was just so nervous due to everything going on, and would feel more comfortable that way...

Well, he thought, perhaps, he could understand that. Seemed kinda like a good idea, even. They'd need to get used to half-dressed quickies... If they were lucky enough to get any safe opportunities, at all, out on the road, anyway... (It was ridiculous to even think of such a thing, to be honest.) 

  
And, after all, Richard didn't feel he had much room to talk, as he sorta needed some special accommodations himself, at the moment, with he and Simmons' left arm, though healed, still not as strong as it had been.

And, him having to balance his weight more on his right side when laying overtop his boy, and make sure Jimmy was careful not to lay on the arm at any point, or get too rowdy around the weaker appendage...

  
Although, this didn't stop the smaller boy from kissing up and down the too slim, too pale limb, over and over again.

As though he could fully restore him with the strength of his love...

  
Hmm… sweet, naïve boy... Richard really would have preferred to have him completely bare beneath him, right then... 

To feel his smooth skin slide freely against his own...

  
But, at the end of the day, he always wanted him to be comfortable, to be _happy_ , more.

  
So, Richard only carefully unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled both their shorts down...

  
_Just_ enough…

  
Just enough to line them up... have Jimmy wrap both his hands, his fingers entwined, around them...

As Richard really did have to balance, and more just hold onto him, and leisurely rock against him.

  
Both only pausing long enough to get the little hidden tube of coconut oil behind the headboard for a little extra slick... 

  
Richard, also, got his Raven to, at least, unbutton his shirt for him enough so he could lap and nip at those little pink buds that were so perfect, so pretty, they made his head spin…

And, even, when he slowly, but so lovingly, kissed, and licked his way down the small, precious body that writhed and whimpered beneath him, to, finally, take him into his mouth, against his tongue, down his throat… tasting the mild flavor of coconut, but mostly tasting that sweet flavor that was all his Jimmy, his beloved Raven… he still didn’t pull his shorts completely down, and off like he would’ve liked to.

Just being a considerate, while young (Even, mentally, really.), lover. Respecting his boy’s wishes, even if he didn’t exactly understand them.

  
(Although, later, when he DID find out why… found out what his boy had been hiding underneath his clothes… the vicious welts… the deep bruises… He’d never allow such a thing, again, without ensuring, -with hands and eyes running fearfully over him-, that everything was alright. Without having to check for himself that no one had _dared_ to put their hands on his Raven, again.)

  
But, as said before, that future, _their_ future, was unknown to them. Which, in such a moment, that may have been a beautiful blessing.

  
As Richard caught his boy’s sweet cries on his tongue. Swallowed his moans right down his throat…

And, Jimmy held him to him _fiercely_. As though he’d die a thousand deaths if he let him go. As if Richard’s very touch was a life-giving elixir.

And, so…

  
So, they loved each other.

  
For one last, always to be cherished, time, before the roof truly caved in on the beautiful little life they’d created together, and nothing was ever as easy (Because all this was a _paradise_ compared to what awaited them.) for them, again.

  
And, it was perfectly flawed.

And, it was sinfully pure.

And, it didn’t matter that they were both boys.

And, it didn’t matter that Jimmy, sometimes, felt like and liked to dress like a girl.

Or, that Richard, through some seriously strange series of events, had come to share a body with his younger brother. Who they both loved so much.

Or, that they were both so physically young, and Richard was, comparably, so mentally old.

  
None of that mattered. Not in that one last moment in time.

All that mattered was their love.

Their pure and perfect love.

All that mattered was that Together…

Despite it all…

In that one last moment…

They were still Whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *FIXED: Richard’s Song for Jimmy at this particular point in their life together:  
> [ Teenage Dream - Boyce Avenue (Cover) - Lyrics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oh5oKzDLOPE)
> 
> *FIXED: Jimmy’s Song for Richard at this particular (Particularly during the flashbacks, and the end of the chapter.) point in their life together. And, yes, the pic tripped me out. Looks SO anime Jimmy in China Doll Drag:  
> [Supernatural (Cover) Acoustic with Lyrics- Love this Version!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2tsT-kKzhk)
> 
> Some absolutely great Grif/Simmons songs are coming up. Too spoilery to post, yet, though.  
> We are coming up on some violence after this chapter. I hope you were able to see, and start to have a better understanding of Richard’s heart and the motivation behind his actions before shit gets pretty dark. (You really need to understand him better before things start to progress with Grif/Simmons)  
> Does anyone really think Richard would be able to continue to hide behind Simmons’ identity when those he loves are truly in danger? No? Didn’t think so. You all are too smart. ☺  
> And, next Chapter will be back w/Simmons/Grif & Simmons may just start remembering, in graphic detail, some bad, bloody stuff... regarding that night Richard went completely off his rocker... But, also... that silver lining I've mentioned? Is there hope in this madness, after all?  
>   
> And, Grif really has no clue how dangerous Richard, or “AssholeSimmons”, can be if pushed too far. I have a feeling he may end up finding out at some point in the near future, though…
> 
> The, overall, situation with Richard should seem more clear (Alter based off Simmons’ older brother vs. Alter that somehow _is_ Simmons’ older brother.), but more questions have been raised. Such as to how such a thing could happen, and what was the secret about Richard that had to be hidden from outsiders and, even, it seems from the boys, and what the hell happened at the hospital,  & what did Richard DO exactly, etc.?  
>   
> Well, we have our second they’ll “Always Be Together In The End” couple confirmed. Grif and Simmons were the first. (Naturally) If you’re wondering how in the world these two could ever have a happy ending together: Remember, I promised that all our couples would get their eventual happy ending. Well, other than Chucker due to Alpha Church’s deletion :,( , and Wash/Maine (That’s not tagged, yet.) due to the situation w/Sigma, and my desire to not stray too far from major events within canon’s overall storyline, and Grif/Kira, whose prior relationship we’ll be getting into fairly soon, as that was an actual breakup, and they both find their happiness, and are meant to be, with someone else. When it comes to Richard/Jimmy, the one thing I’ll say at the moment is that Simmons , -starting with the bloody, dark shit with a silver lining that he recalls in next chapter-, is the key (And, Richard f’ing _listening_ for once. There’s the REAL challenge.) And, we aren’t looking at a multiple partner situation here with them just so you know.  
>   
>  Also, to reiterate: If you have noticed characters speaking, reacting, doing, or thinking things in a similar fashion, good eye (Sticker Star for you, love! ✪ )! This is to show the, at times currently unknown, inner connection, and/or commonality, between the different characters.
> 
> BTW, as I said, this is absolutely a fictional story, but there are aspects that, at times, have real-world, hidden truths in them. One of them is the thing Jimmy mentions, in his roundabout way, about some girls (Not a whole lot, but not just a few here or there, either.) in these communities having anal sex (To keep their “virginity” intact, and keep from getting pregnant.) with their boyfriends… it’s TRUE. I’ll never forget the day I found out. I think my jaw hit the floor. I was like, “Which girls?! Are you _shitting_ me? HER? And HER? No way! Not **her** , too! She dates the preacher’s fuckin’ judgy-ass phobic son, though! How is this happening right under my nose?!” I actually, full disclosure here, felt a little upset about it at the time. Which, probably, doesn’t make sense as I don't judge, & I was always attracted to both girls and guys for as long as I could remember. But, the idea that so many of us had to hide our sexualities, and who we really were, even from the huge majority of the fellow kids/teens in the communities, and, yet, within this same community, that particular practice was more (secretly) acceptable due to it being between a completely CIS female and male… I don’t know, it just got under my skin. Prob. would’ve had more fun at the time if I’d been less of a brat about it, but, eh, some of us have our principles! :p
> 
> Thanks to those of you sticking with this story! Much love to you all! ♡–MissyAnn❀  
>   
> 


	19. I Remember You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, Simmons, a little late, (But, you know the saying. Better late than never!), quickly yelped out, his voice cracking, “Sorry! Fuck! S-Sorry!”
> 
> Grif simply squinted at him, and slowly asked, “Dude… What the fuck… is wrong with you?”
> 
> Well, THAT was a loaded question. Especially, to ask someone like _Simmons_. He was tempted to ask if Grif maybe wanted an essay on the subject?
> 
> Cause _trust him_. Simmons could provide one or two, or, in all actuality, multiple versions, in a myriad of differing formats-
> 
> But, instead, the redhead wrung his hands together, winced… but answered readily enough- Only a crack or two to be heard (Progress, right?), “P-Probably a- a lot of things?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER: Richie & Simmons are the same person
> 
> Tags for this Chapter: Signs of future low-key Food Kink tendencies?, Mama Bear Simmons, Brotherly Bonding, Little Simmons aka Richie is freakin’ adorbs to write (I love him! I wanna pinch his cute wittle nerdy pretty boy cheeks! ❤), She drowned me with science!, Ex- GF from hell, mad science
> 
> Ummm… So a lot of stuff is revealed, or starts to be revealed in this chapter. But, just as there were many hints to Richard being/or having been (Depending on how you’re looking at it.) Simmons’ brother, there’ve been clues to all of this, as well. Basically, that “secrets” tag that’s been there since day one? It has a lot of meanings. There are things that I simply couldn’t and still can’t tag without giving away major spoilers. I promise that none of them will affect this stories eventual Happy Ending tag, though.
> 
> The dark shit that Richard did (That Simmons WAS partially there for.) and blocked (BourbonandBloodBourbonandBlood…) that has a huge silver lining for Richard & Simmons and Richard/Jimmy had to get pushed as the chapter got too long, but it’s coming up, and is still very much in play, and almost entirely done.
> 
> And, to anyone who is disappointed about Richard’s origins, and was hoping we would get deeper into more organic DID/Split personalities in this fic, do not be bummed out! We have another couple characters in particular down the line (Wonder if you can guess who? One is human. One… eh… not exactly…) that fall under these headings. Please read End Notes for further info. regarding Simmons' and Richard's situation that is too spoilery to post before this chapter is read.  
> 

Simmons lay in Grif’s bunk.

In Grif’s room.

In Grif’s _arms_.

Wrapped around him. His head on his chest. An arm, and leg thrown possessively across his slumbering form.

Possessively because… well, could you _blame_ him? After what had happened with Richard…

But, honestly… it was more than that.

Simmons was feeling… strange…

So many broken memories.

Confused, blank spots.

And, Richard’s fears, and his, -whether well-meaning or not-, _lies_ unraveling before Simmons’ very eyes.

At a time like this, he just felt… he wanted…

It just felt better to be able to hear- to **feel** \- Grif’s heartbeat- his chest rise and fall beneath his ear, okay!

……

Shit.

And, the truth of it was that with how unsettled Simmons was feeling, it didn’t help that Grif was extremely quiet while he slept.

Almost spookily so.

-But, then, considering how he liked to sneak in naps all the time when he wasn’t supposed to… maybe that was a learned trait?-

Regardless, it made Simmons nervous. With all the chaotic thoughts running through his head, he hadn’t been able to stay asleep.

He just wanted… wanted… to know this was real. That Grif was truly there with him. (Alive. Breathing. Not missing. Not possibly-…)

Grif…

Who’d fallen asleep on his back with an arm wrapped around Simmons’ waist, and a hand on top of the redhead’s so slender, long-fingered one… that he just happened to have on top of the Hawaiian’s belly and Grif had gripped quite firmly, even as Simmons grasped tightly into the fabric of his red panda t-shirt.

And, although his grip had inevitably loosened as he drifted off, Grif hadn’t let go of him.

Huh… This whole thing, it was… surreal. Like a strange, yet, wonderful dream.

But, uh, yeah… still strange. It was… They really were both pretty strange, weren’t they?

The redhead sighed quietly as he curled closer, more securely around the so peacefully sleeping other man.

And, he held him tightly, as if to anchor himself, as his eyes slipped closed, and his mind, and thoughts wandered back…

Back to just a couple hours earlier…

  
  
They’d been finishing up eating…

Grif still feeding Simmons bites of sandwiches, rather than simply giving him his own. Which he surely would’ve done if they were anywhere where someone else could’ve happened upon them.

But, they were-

Alone.

And, it was- was Just Them, again.

And, no matter how much Richard really meant to him, -despite Simmons’ periodic freak-outs about him-, Simmons was secretly… well, just grateful. Grateful to have this time.

Especially, with Grif being… was it sweet?

On second thought, he didn’t know how to feel about that.

Simmons would almost prefer to tell himself that Grif was sharing with him like this because that way he had ultimate control over the food. He could take his big pig bites to match each of Simmons’ petite bird ones, and- and…

It wasn’t like (It totally was.) Simmons was sitting in Grif’s lap, while the other man was, ultimately, bringing a sandwich to Simmons’ lips over and over, again… t-touching his cheek with his other hand as though coaxing him to… uh… open his mouth… again… and t-…. take in more and more-

Um, but, yeah! Totally. Grif, uh, was totally doing it all for selfish reasons. Of course. I mean, duh. This was _Grif_.

And-And, _mmm_ … it wasn’t like this whole thing had taken a weird (Affectionate, sweet, _sensual_ , for fuck’s sake.) turn!

And, even if it HAD, it wasn’t like Simmons was a total pussy that couldn’t handle it! He was a grown-ass man! (Pretty much… was nineteen grown? Oh, shit. Grif didn’t even know how old he really was. He’d assumed he was around his age when they’d first met, -Around 20-, and thought he just looked young for his age, and… ah, fuck. Did that even matter?)

Dammit! Simmons was getting nervous- So nervous. So many feeling… Too many feelings!

Messy, complicated, and _not_ easily decipherable, even with all the “cheat codes” and study guides in the freaking _world_.

Richard, on a regular day, would normally step in about now to put him on more steady ground.

Read: Persuade him into chilling the fuck out, getting snarky rather than edgy, or, if all else failed, simply _knocking_ him the fuck out, so he could deal with shit himself until Simmons could “wake up”, so to speak, to a more acceptable, less-frightening, better aligned world.

Although, perhaps… not a very realistic one.

Sometimes, especially in the midst of all this, it frightened Simmons to think… Could he even handle life and its ups and downs without Richard there to protect and shield him from the worst or most panic-inducing parts of it?

He wasn’t sure…

But, it sure seemed like he was going to start finding out as Richard was… he wasn’t himself, anymore. Not really. More and more he seemed to have these moments of needing **Simmons** to be the strong one, and-

_He didn’t know how ta’ dooo that!_

Oh boy. He was **whining** pitifully in his own thoughts, and Richard was no help. Wasn’t coddling, or gently bullying him to “quit bein’ a brat” like he had so many times before.

Instead, he was asleep…

Close, but…

So deeply asleep, again.

Simmons could actually so clearly see into the very edges of Richard’s dreams…

  


Richard’s dreams…

That were still obviously pieces of memory…

To peep into them, and, yet, be separate enough to, even if ever so slowly, _analyze_ them… To be able to attempt to figure out how… how it had really been…

And, to try to distinguish the real truth from Richard’s created “truth”.

Hmmm…

It, -this current dream/memory-, wasn’t teetering toward, or starting to become as X-rated as the memories Richard had had when he’d confused Grif for Jimmy-

Where Richard had actually been _seeing_ the beautiful boy in his mind’s eye as he, somehow, mistook Grif for him (All creamy skin, and bright, loving eyes. Long, silky dark hair sliding through slender fingers. Glistening pink lips and so wet, so hard little nipped and nibbled on n-nipples. Bodies entwined, and a small lovely boy pinned so possessively underneath him… Pants, and moans, and pleas- and-and some other… other, uh… stuff… OH, FOR FRICK’S SAKE, GUYS! Get a room!)…

Hmm… The hair, though… There might be something to that… Cause, come to think of it, the texture of Grif’s was actually very similar to Jimmy’s… When Grif _took care_ of his damn hair that is (Freaking pain in the ass, lazy son of a bitch-)… Their hair actually _felt_ a lot the same… Simmons and Jimmy used to braid each other’s hair all the time back in the day so he’d know…

I mean- I mean- No they didn’t! Shut up! Who told you that he did that girly crap?!

… _Anyway_ … Their hair possibly even looked, in the dim light of the room, despite the differing shades, slightly similar as well… So… maybe that had had something to do with why Richard, in his mixed up state of mind, had connected, and confused the two of them?

(And, why he’d started to get all possessive, and overly… affectionate… toward Grif… toward _Simmons’_ Grif?!)

R-Right? It was, probably, just that simple.

It- It couldn’t be that between that, and the overwhelming feelings of new and/or finally acknowledged love that Simmons felt toward the dark-haired Hawaiian, that Richard having experienced this before, -these moments of new and real love-, and already being mentally fragile due to the frightening things he refused to share, had confused time and space, and who’s who-

Whatever the case, thank God, Simmons had spoken up, and put on the brakes to Richard’s actions with Grif.

One, cause Grif was HIS, but, also, cause, um, having to see Richard’s memories with Jimmy… THOSE kinda memories… for Simmons, personally, it’d almost been like seeing two of his closest family members starting to… get it on. Although, Richard and Jimmy weren’t blood-related, or anything, but in Simmons’ heart they’d always been his original family- his REAL family, and- well… ya know… .

He WAS glad they’d had times where they’d been able to be so happy together! He really was! And, he wished they could, somehow, at the end of the day, all be a family, again….

But, he’d been starting to realize…

-As he tried to piece together all the new information he had gathered through-out the long evening hours-

Starting to realize that while Richard had claimed Jimmy had “moved”… the redhead now understood that he had also, partnered and implanted that claim with this idea deep, deep into his mind, BOTH their minds, that when everything chilled out, and they could go back home… they would all be together, again.

But how could that happen? _Could_ that even happen?

With these memories coming back of Jimmy still being in their life way later than Richard had let him remember… of him being… sick… or hurt… and-and… something bad having happened to them all when they were still young teenagers… Something that he could NOT get to no matter how hard he tried.

And, then, it seemed something really terrible had happened- Something even **worse** , in some way. To Simmons’ best friend. To Richard’s Jimmy Bean… His Raven... (Who, -when Richard wasn’t hiding and twisting everything-, Simmons knew to his very bones that Richard would **never** just leave behind…) And, Richard had-had done something in response that had caused them to- to end up having to run off, and join the service….

With the pieces that were slowly knitting together… it wasn’t lookin’ very fuckin’ pretty.

The more clear things became, the more Simmons was afraid that Richard had subconsciously soothed him, and himself, with the promise of them all being together at the end of the day, so that he wouldn’t lose his own mind, and so Simmons wouldn’t look too deeply into everything, and simply trust that if he followed Richard’s lead… their family, -which as far as Simmons was concerned, and even Richard seemed to begrudgingly acknowledge, was now +1 lazy fatass-, would all be back together sooner rather than later.

Their family… Hmm…

One thing Simmons had to stop, and take a moment to admit? To himself, at least? As he thought over all of these things… -Remembering his best friend that Richard had come to love-… was that… secretly… one thing that had always meant a lot to him, personally, when he’d met Grif?

Something that people might not understand unless they were raised in a society overflowing with judgmental, bigoted jerks?

Was that it meant a lot that he’d felt from the very start that Jimmy would like Grif. He couldn’t even tell you exactly why without getting all mushy and embarrassing… (Grif remembered shit that mattered, even, though, he so rarely seemed to actually be listening… He secretly gave a fuck. Gave many, many fucks. And, he was a total caregiver at heart.)

It’s funny how you can know that pretty much everyone in your life could disapprove of someone… But, knowing that one of the very few people whose opinion secretly really DID matter the most would’ve totally GOT IT. And, thought that the person you… loved was just pretty fuckin’ great…

That meant a lot.

He and Jimmy had always been alike in a lot of ways, and they normally respected each other’s opinions. Although they’d loved to debate, and argue about _everything_. *Smile* It’d driven Richard up the wall, sometimes…

But, anyway, Simmons thought that though Jimmy might’ve been a little intimated by Grif’s mannerisms, and ways, at first, he absolutely _knew_ that he would’ve liked him as a _person_ , and- and just… understood… understood what… what it was that Simmons saw…

It wasn’t like he would feel differently about Grif if that hadn’t been the case, but it was just-

Oh, who the fuck knew! It went into some serious emotional familial “feelings” territory, and that shit was NOT his forte.

One more thing that had to be mentioned on the subject, though, was that Simmons knew that Richard, also, liked Grif, and “approved” of him more than he let on. Although, he normally had a hell of a weird way of showing it.

But, that could be excused as he was… He was in a dark place, right now…

He’d be more himself, again, if, at all possible, their growing family had his Jimmy back…

But, if there was any chance of that… Simmons had to grasp hold of any and every opportunity to find out the truth.

It had to be in there. Locked away in his head.

He _couldn’t_ be a pussy about it! He had to- to…

*Sigh*

At least, this time it really was different than the memories that had washed over Simmons when Richard had… started to… with Grif… _Fuck_ … That couldn’t happen again. It just _couldn’t-_ …

No. This dream that held Richard in its warm embrace was not quite the same. Not at all. It seemed more orientated around feelings n’ stuff. But, it was _still_ , probably, a lead up to the two older boys doing it. Geesh.

-Internal blushing, again-

But, wait- Older? Was… Was Richard really older? Could an “Alter”, or whatever he was, actually be older than their “Host” or-or…?... But, then, Richard was different. So entirely his own individual despite their moments of like-mindedness, and sometime similarities. He’d always been- He didn’t fit the mold exactly unless-unless… Hmm…

W-Whatever. Uhm… the dream! Yes, Richard’s dream. It _was_ different, cause…

First of all, it wasn’t just Richard and Jimmy in it…

Alone, and unable to take their hands off each other.

And, speaking of, uh… _that_ … it may sound incredibly nuts, insane even, but… Simmons hadn’t seen those previous memories of Richard's, and felt as if **he’d** been touched, or been doing the touching… If he’d physically (Or mentally, he supposed.) been there at the time that would obviously be different, but he hadn’t been.

It was more uncomfortable and embarrassing because… well, cause it was uncomfortable and embarrassing!

But…

This…

Simmons didn’t even hear the slight hum he let out as, all at once, his body fully relaxed against Grif’s.

Physically still present, but mentally? Eh, not so much.

And, feeling quietly content, and truly safe, he was able to simply sink into Richard’s dream… Into his very own younger self within this memory…

  


Was It Yesterday?  
Or The Day Before?  
When Both My Boys Were By My Side  
And, Our Love Grew More & More…

  
It was the three of them.

Himself, and Richard, and Jimmy…

Goofing off at Jimmy’s pool during one of the many, many days that they were home alone.

They almost always were.

Just messing around. Currently, tossing a large red rubber ball as hard as possible at the water in front of each other to see who could splash the other one the most (Richard always won. And, he, currently, splashed Simmons, and himself to get the redhead, to his own almost gleeful, _Gotcha, brat!_ , and to the younger boy’s giggling squeals and only half-serious scowls.)…

Presently, and always, playing around in the shallow end from what Simmons could remember…

Until Jimmy would, normally, make them go in-

Nagging that they never ate enough (He was such a little mother.) to Richard’s arguments that that was _Simmons_.

And, the smaller boy would cook or put together something for their lunch or dinner, depending on how late they’d slept in…

The three of them, innocently, curled up together in Jimmy’s bed late into the morning, or even early afternoon.

(You’d think Richard and Jimmy stayed up late, late into the night after Simmons had passed out, -and Richard had, likely, nudged him a little deeper under just to be extra safe-, or something.)

But, when they played around in the pool- in the water…

Those memories… This dream was so stark. So- so _bright_.

Simmons didn’t know how it could have ever been dulled.

Such happy moments.

He was laughing in this dream/memory… Just as he’d nearly always been laughing during those particular times…

And, feeling so- so **alive**.

Richard felt it, too.

But, it was different for him.

More like… like a burning sensation in the pit of their stomach.

A fire alighting in their veins.

_Alive. Alive. Alive._

And, sometimes…

It burned out of control.

And, it happened right then and there.

Richard squeezed their opposite hand. Really meaning to squeeze Simmons’ hand specifically. And, there was this instant. An instant where he said so many things to him that Simmons didn’t normally understand (That Richard didn’t ALLOW him to understand, at that point.), all without saying a word.

A true momentary melding of the minds…

[ _LoveYouRichieI’llAlwaysKeepYouSafeI’dDoItAgainAndAgainAndAgain…_ ]

Before Simmons could even begin to respond-

Richard was turning their eyes to Jimmy.

And, Richard didn’t even have time to remember to tuck Simmons safely away before…

There was this flash.

An instant of seeing this kid, -teen, now, whatever-… this skinny, way too freaking pretty for a boy, kid (Like a little model, or something. It was _ridiculous_. But, it only made Simmons feel a little less “pretty”, and more like a regular boy, instead of just a pretty girly-boy, so… ya know… it was cool.)… Jimmy, who Simmons had known _forever_ … knew so many embarrassing things about (And, that went vice versa, as well.)…

There was this moment where he saw him entirely through Richard’s eyes.

And, he may have been too young, too innocent to understand the feelings, but he could SEE. See how he looked… different. Almost beatific or something really strange like that.

How he almost seemed to _radiate_ **life** , and hope, and-

It was the trippiest thing. He represented so much to Richard. But, most of all, in that instant, Simmons could truly sense how he made Richard feel _real_ and _alive_ , like he’d never been able to feel… even before (Be-Before?...) and...

Oh, geez. And, then, there were the marks all across Jimmy’s stomach and chest, shoulders and collarbones that Richard possessively, jealously ran their eyes over… Like he was acknowledging and ensuring he recognized each and every single one…

Those little marks… New and fading ones, -that’d normally be hidden from everyone else underneath Jimmy’s shirt-, that while out there, with the three of them, alone at the pool… Simmons was suddenly able to SEE. These marks that Richard had, somehow got him to simply discount, and not even _notice_ before, but that in that moment… that moment where Simmons saw his best friend through Richard’s, -who was the kid’s secret _boyfriend_ -, eyes… he saw them as marks that claimed Jimmy as _Richard’s_.

And, he felt how **strong** Richard’s feelings were. Overwhelming. Cutting and deep.

Almost painful.

So _intense._

  
And, Simmons could, also, see how it never seemed to be one-sided with those two. Not once they were together…

Jimmy would always, without fail, -even as he did now, within this dream, this memory-, turn toward them when Richard looked at him like that.

And, when their eyes met…

The smaller boy was in the middle of a sentence, but, suddenly, he grew so, so still.

Looking up at them.

Silent.

Like he was waiting.

[And, Richard, -never looking away from the other boy, although making no move toward him, except… to gently brush dark, wet strands of hair back off of his upturned face-, murmured to Simmons within the privacy of their shared mind, “Is it… are you okay to sleep… for a little while? Just an hour or two…”]

And, Simmons felt this flash of severe guilt radiating from Richard. As if this wasn’t normally the way… this wasn’t really the way they (Richard & Jimmy, apparently.) liked, or had decided, to do things, and he felt like such a fucking piece of shit to just-

But, as bitchy as Simmons could be, he really wasn’t heartless. Not at all. (Not that that was anybody’s business, or anything.) And, he could feel… actually **feel** how much Richard _needed_ the other boy. In what _precise_ kinds of ways he didn’t really know, or want to know.

But, it was a need that seemed to stem from a very deep, nearly existential, cheesy-as-fuck (Really sweet.) place-

He seemed to need him like a starving man needs food to eat.

Like a man stranded in a desert needs water to drink.

Like a- Like a suffocating (drowning, drowning…) man needs air to breathe…

(And, Simmons could just barely understand that. Even with all those blocks still in place.)

He needed him for sustenance.

As a very affirmation of life.

And, Simmons could _never_ begrudge Richard that.

(Especially, not with everything he’d sacrificed for him…)

So, he agreed. With no complains, or scowls to be seen.

-And, as he went to “sleep” in this memory/dream, his thoughts meandered and wandered in real time-

  
Hm… No, he wouldn’t complain.

Because, the truth was that he loved them both. And, they loved him.

He was theirs, and they were his.

Even if only in secret.

A VERY unconventional family, huh? Even by today’s standards.

But, the truth was that, oftentimes, after Simmons and Grif got together, and even years in the future, when Simmons sat in a rocking chair, and rocked he and Grif’s daughter back to sleep (She did love to sleep. Like her Daddy.), he would think that he had only recognized real “romantic” love, -that he had never seen in person, at all, until then-, and grew to sorta understand it (Even if he still sucked at it, sometimes- Okay. A lot of the times.) through having seen Richard and Jimmy together.

He’d sure never saw it with his parents, or Jimmy’s, or anyone else really. He probably wouldn’t have recognized Grif’s subtle cues for frickin’ _years_ if not for the memory… that Richard could never fully erase, -because he couldn’t bear to erase HIM (And, thank God he hadn’t.)-, of Jimmy and Richard’s love.

That had seemed so perfect, and so pure…

And, maybe, in a lot of ways, it was.

To feel what Richard felt, even if only secondhand, it made Simmons feel embarrassed and kinda uncomfortable, yes… but, also… warm inside.

Like the way he’d heard, and imagined it would feel if you saw your parents kiss. Like fucking gross, right? But, at the same time… there’s like… this little tingle. Is it a happy feeling? Contentment? Or, is it just an underlying warmth and security gained from knowing that the two people that you… you love, and that love you… also, love each other?

Who fuckin’ knows…

Simmons did know that he certainly could have never gotten that from Simmons Senior or his mother.

But, the times he’d seen Jimmy through Richard’s eyes, he thought he’d sorta come to understand the concept.

But, regardless of that, all Simmons could secretly think back then, when they were all still together, was that in a perfect world, they would all live together “on the regular”. Not simply over the weekends.

Though, they had been so lucky to have had even that for as long as they had.

Yes… Simmons remembered wishing that they really could live like a family… And, Richard would, somehow, have his own body (Again… Again…). And, he could be like his big brother/father figure, who always protected him. And, Jimmy could be more like his big sister/mother figure who always looked after, and comforted him.

And, the redhead didn’t know, and couldn’t tell you why so much of this little family, and their very dynamic, all revolved around him-

Wait. He _was_ the youngest. The “baby” of their odd little household, if you will. So, maybe, he would always be a little spoiled? A little OVER-protected?

Always the “Kid”.

And, he always would be. No shit. He’d never escape that. Even when he had his OWN child, for crying out loud, and things had changed so very much for all of them (Though, mostly, for the better.). She’d simply become “the littlest kid” or “Sweet Pea” to Richard. But, Simmons would STILL be _the_ “Kid”.

You should pity Simmons’ future father self.

As it could be some seriously embarrassing bullshit.

Simply take a moment to imagine the first time Richard called Simmons _“the Kid”_ in front of Grif… And, feel some fucking pity for poor Simmons who has lived so much of his life in a perpetual f’n blush thanks to being surrounded by assholes-

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  


But, none of that was really at issue on that night in Grif’s room.

The night of the “Sleepover”.

Not, right then, within that very moment, anyway.

Nevertheless, Simmons was still having a hell of a time, though…

He really had to chill. He was SO distracted.

Possibly, even wussing out, after all?

Cause… Dammit… you have to understand that… while Simmons was seeing into Richard’s dreams, and trying to distract himself with his own tattered remnants of memory (That he was so slowly, while almost unconsciously, raveling back… back into some semblance of a recognizable form.)…

He was, also, if you recall, in Grif’s lap still being… being FED by the confusing bastard!

Either romantically, or like a freaking child.

Simmons couldn’t decide which, yet.

It was- was-

Holy hell. It was some- some kinda thing…

But, then, wouldn’t you fuckin’ know it? Grif, as he liked to do, just up and decided to embarrass poor Simmons, -who was a patriotic enough shade as it was at the moment-, even _more_.

(He _might’ve_ realized Simmons was distracted, and getting caught up in his own head, and that’s why he did it… Who knew?)

And, uh… the son of a bitch _might’ve_ , um…

Opened a mostly eaten sandwich-

(The last one. That was about 2/3 gone.)

A small piece of fluffy, home(base)made bread in each hand-

Looked, teasingly, up into Simmons’ bright green eyes from under those thick, black lashes-

And, _licked_ a huge swipe of peanut butter and honey onto the end of his tongue to Simmons’ squall of dismay.

Before slapping the pieces of bread back together-

Then, waggling his tongue suggestively at Simmons like a total f’n pig.

But, **also** , like _Want it? Come an’ get it, bitch_.

Such an _**idiot.**_

As IF Simmons would EVER-

But, uh… Simmons thought maybe he’d surprised the hell outta both of them when he glared at the other man in complete and utter disgust, but-

Still, leaned forward…

Opened his mouth, and-

Gripping his shoulders firmly, as if holding him in place…

He caught Grif’s tongue between his lips… and _suuucked_ the glob of delicious smooth salty-sweet treat right off him, and down his own throat.

Then, catching the tip of that warm, wet appendage lightly between his teeth this time (What the fuck was he _**doing?**_ Hell, if he knew.), he pulled slightly before releasing him altogether.

All while humming softly and contentedly under his breath.

Which was fucking weird because at that point he didn’t even realize he kept consistently doing that with Grif.

That humming that almost sounded like purring thing…

Grif had to tell him later.

Holy fuckin’ shit.

He really _was_ a fuckin’ nutball.

They BOTH were.

Coupla nutty dudes…

(That made him think of the sweetened peanut butter he’d just sucked right off Grif’s tongue…)  
  
Not to mention they were both, apparently, disgusting, too.

Just fucking gross.

_*Secret Smile*_

But, maybe, after all that a bit earlier that night with Richard… Simmons, whether subconsciously or not, wanted to show that he could learn to be a little… ya know… kinky, or whatever, too…

He knew he must’ve done a decent enough job (Read: A freaking AMAZING-ass job) when Grif actually put the sandwich he’d still had in his hand down on its wrapping-

Grif. Putting food that he was in the middle of eating down. It was like a sign of the end of times. The fucking coming apocalypse!

And, put those hands, fingers slightly sticky with peanut butter n’ blackberry jelly n‘ clover honey (Honey-lovers know the difference.), on _Simmons_ , now.

Wrapping him up in his arms…

Nuzzling into his pale throat…

Warming him up with his bulk, with his strength-

Ohhh, so nice…

_Buuuttt,_ Simmons wouldn’t be Simmons if he didn’t-

“Fuck off! You’re sticky, asshole!,” the redhead tried to press his hands against the Hawaiian man’s solid chest to push him back as he squealed like the fucking brat that he really was.

Grif didn’t care, though. He simply pressed him closer with one arm, and put his hand with the stickiest fingers right up to Simmons’ suddenly very flushed face.

Tapping those fingers right against Simmons’ lips. Onto his lower lip. Pulling it down a bit…

“Then, _fix it_ ,” Grif murmured. _Daring_ him. Obviously, sure he wouldn’t do it. That he’d call him a fatass pig, and tell him to fuck off with that shit… But, despite how he seemed to think Simmons would respond, he still taunted, “I _know_ how much you nerds like to fix shit…”

The noise that escaped the redhead could only be described as a pathetic, yet, somehow, still annoyed whine.

Although, a barely audible one.

So, he took some comfort in that.

He didn’t wanna just be putty in this lazy fucker’s hands! He didn’t want to simply fall under his absolutely mysterious, inexplicable spell!

There was a reason he was always so nervous about them being _alone_ alone. And, it was more than just because of Grif being a guy, and him being a guy…

Despite Richard and Jimmy having been together in that kind of a relationship, this was different. This was HIM, and… with the way they’d all been raised… The idea was still hard for him to imagine or accept for himself…

But, it was still **more** than that. Grif had some kinda strange fucking hold over him. He made him feel… He made him FEEL.

It was intoxicating, and addicting. Like a drug he wanted to hoard all to himself.

And, that could be some really scary shit. Especially for someone like him, and- and he- and he-

And, without thinking any further into anything, he, suddenly, had his head bowed over Grif’s hand, and he was licking, and sucking the other man’s fingers into his mouth. Moaning lowly around them at the taste of sweet honey, salty peanut butter, and Grif’s skin against his tongue.

And, now it was _Simmons_ that was looking up at Grif through his lashes. Only much more heatedly rather than playfully, to the sound of Grif’s low, muttered, “ Fuck.”

Those ocean blue eyes were burning into him. Unable to be torn away from his mouth sucking on, and his tongue swirling and working over his fingers.

And, Grif’s voice might’ve been hoarse, but he got straight to the point, “Fuck waiting til tomorrow.”

“Huh?,” Simmons asked, a little dumbly, and a tad garbled due to the thick digits he was, now, inexplicably, _nibbling_ on. (Yeaaahhh… Poor Simmons was likely way past due. He needed to get laid by this dude like _yesterday_.)

And, Grif was pulling his hand away. Grabbing the redhead by his slender hips, and completely effortlessly lifting him, and rearranging him back on top, rather than across his lap, before pulling him completely against him.

Hands moving up to grasp his elbows. Sliding up his soft, suddenly, so sensitive, flushed skin…

Leaning into him to nip hard onto his earlobe to Simmons’ small yelp that rapidly turned into a moan.

And, Grif murmured lowly in his ear to Simmons’ sudden shuddery intake of breath, “Wanna make you cum, Baby… Think you can get it up, again, if I suck you off first?…”

And, before the redhead could recover from _Grif_ just up, and saying **that** (And, in a way too deceptively “chill” tone, as well.), the other man’s hands were moving higher up his arms as he pulled him, somehow, even closer.

Simmons whimpered like the completely overwhelmed _virgin_ that he totally was.

“Ah, don’t bitch, Kissass,” Grif’s voice was nearly a lazy purr, “I’m sure you can. I’ll help you…”

Those licked clean (Oh my God… By Simmons… _Simmons_ had done that…) fingers were trailing up underneath the sleeves of the too-large t-shirt the redhead wore.

So close…

All at once, too close…

Too close to touching that viciously scarred skin on Simmons’ upper arm.

Although, Grif couldn’t have had a clue, it was like the sound of screeching brakes for Simmons.

Because…

_No._

_Grif can’t-_

_Simmons didn’t want him to know-_

_No one can know-_

Simmons wanted to pull back, but he, also, so, so **badly** wanted to move closer.

And, before he could decide which path to take-

Grif’s fingers just _barely_ brushed up against-

Simmons saw the second the other man’s expression started to change. And, for that split second, he almost felt like he could read Grif’s mind. The very evolution of his thoughts.

It was like he was thinking:

_What the fuck is this?_

But, then, Grif obviously had to have been able to figure out what scar tissue felt like. He wasn’t really a total idiot. And, it isn’t that big of a mystery to figure out...

Not when you could _feel_ it. Feel it right underneath your fingertips…

Simmons was so afraid the other man was going to ask:

_How? How the fuck did this happen? How did I not notice? Dude, this had to be BAD. What the shit-_

It was too much. Even though Grif didn’t SAY any of that… the- the fact that these questions were now there. Sitting heavily in-between them.

More questions.

More lies.

Even if only by omission.

More SECRETS.

It was simply too fuckin’ much.

His heart, his soul, his MIND couldn’t bear it.

The truth was that sometimes… sometimes, Simmons felt like his very mind itself was an always changing labyrinth. One that continually mocked and tittered.

As soon as he thought he’d found a clear, safe path, a moment to enjoy the scenery… it would be re-aligning, re-arranging.

Right before his very eyes.

Threatening to crush him within those ever-changing walls…

And, he’d run.

Even if only on the inside.

He had to.

For survival.

It wasn’t always Richard. It wasn’t always him…

Simmons was perfectly capable of sabotaging himself.

And, it’s hard to say this, even years later… Because there- _there_ was another moment. A time to just fucking tell the TRUTH. Even if it was only the truth as he knew it at that time. To QUIT with all those freaking **secrets**.

But, instead-

Simmons flipped the fuck out.

And, he pulled so quickly back, even as he _shoved_ Grif so **hard** away from him.

The adrenaline, his panic, and the element of surprise all working together to make him, himself, strong enough so that Grif actually FELL right off the bunk, and onto the floor.

Right on his ass.

It has to be said, though, that Simmons was, at the very least, -as he peeked over the edge of the bunk cautiously-, instantly contrite, and pretty fucking horrified with himself.

He couldn’t help, right then, but to think that while he might _never_ be accused of being any kind of “Casanova” or whatever the shit, he was still pretty damn sure that this was no way to land a boyfriend-

( _Boyfriend?_ Where had THAT come from. Secretly admitting to yourself that you love someone is ONE thing, but having a-a BOYfriend!)

He’d had to stop worrying about that, though, cause Grif was giving him a… uh… not very friendly look from his seat on the uncomfortable looking floor.

And, Simmons, a little late, (But, you know the saying. Better late than never!), quickly yelped out, his voice cracking, “Sorry! Fuck! S-Sorry!”

Grif simply squinted at him, and slowly asked, “Dude… What the fuck… is wrong with you?”

Well, THAT was a loaded question. Especially, to ask someone like _Simmons_. He was tempted to ask if Grif maybe wanted an essay on the subject?

Cause _trust him_. Simmons could provide one or two, or, in all actuality, multiple versions, in a myriad of differing formats-

But, instead, the redhead wrung his hands together, winced… but answered readily enough- Only a crack or two to be heard (Progress, right?), “P-Probably a- a lot of things?”

Grif continued scowling for only a moment longer before he snorted and shook his head at the floor, “…Nah, it’s-it’s cool-”

And, he tried to hide his slightly amused smile, but Simmons saw it anyway. And, he was SO fucking **relieved** that he found himself continuing- With more stuttering this time, but beggers can’t be choosers, “It’s just I-I thought we… had a plan… for-for tomorrow…”

“Yeah, sure,” Grif agreed, actually stretching, and _laying out on the floor_ like the lazy son of a bitch he was, before nonchalantly continuing, “So did I, dude… ‘til you started blowing my fingers-”

_“Griiifff!,”_ Simmons was whining, again.

“What?,” Grif asked. Casual as can be.

“Just… Just get back up here, dumbass!,” Simmons managed to get out, “You’re- You’re gonna get your hair dirty, and you just washed it this morning-”

“Monitoring when I shower, again, huh, Kissass? Hm… Still trying to figure out if that’s kinky or creepy-”

“It’s-It’s neither! I’m the one who TOLD you to shower, and…” Simmons fell silent. Still peeking over the side of the bunk at the other man who looked too comfortable to make any sense. (Maybe it was his extra padding?) Simmons scoffed quietly to himself, but, then, softly asked, “Grif, will you just get back up here… Please?”

“… Nah.”

And, the lazy fatass cushioned his arms behind his head, and _yawned_.

“You fucking prick!,” Okay. No more Mr. Nice Guy! Simmons angrily threw the pillow he’d, somehow, ended up anxiously hugging to his chest, right at Grif’s face, but the dumbass just caught it (Again, he was only quick when he _felt_ like it, and it was to his advantage to be so.), and tucked it underneath his head to Simmons’ annoyed squawk, “What the fuck do you want from m-”

“Be quiet, Kissass.”

His voice was so low.

But, believe it, or not, despite how chill Grif sounded… there was something… something in his tone that Simmons, as he had many times before, automatically responded to.

And, his mouth snapped shut.

“Good. Now, how ‘bout you come down here, and convince me to come back to bed with you, huh? I mean, you shoved me right the fuck outta bed, man. I’m not sure I believe you really _want_ me to come back-”

Simmons scowled in annoyance. He’d SAID sorry!, “I DO! Grif-”

“Shh- What’d I say? Be fuckin’ quiet. And, comere, already. It’s goddamn cold down here, so you better get me back to bed before I get sick. Then, you’d have to do **both** our work-”

“I do anyways!,” the redhead snapped.

“Simmons!,” Grif shot back.

And, uh, Grif didn’t have to SAY _’Dude, you are SUCKING at following orders, right now’_ for Simmons to get the point.

It was just… this… this thing with them, sometimes… when they were… alone? This Grif being like, uh… ya know, like the… the super-secret “boss or whatever”… It’d been going on for a- a long time… but… but everything was changing, now, and-and s-sex and th-things of that nature were being added into the fray, and-and while Simmons **was** secretly so excited about it, it was still different and new and he was trying to get used to it, too...

And, he could- he _could_ , and he **would** , get used to it.

But, as for right then… if there was one thing he excelled at, it was taking an order.

So, Simmons straightened his spine-

And, climbed off the bunk… -Fuck! The floor WAS cold-… Only to freeze, tentatively, when Grif stopped him.

“Wait… Bring that sandwich. Shouldn’t waste food n’ shit just cause you’re a frickin’ spaz.”

And, Simmons almost Lost. His. Shit. Almost threw a full-blown tantrum-level fit ( _SPAZ_ , huh? Ohhh, he could SHOW you SPAZ!)…

When Grif startled him right out of it by rubbing the side of his foot affectionately up and down his calf.

Simmons looked down at him. Unconsciously biting his lip. Blinking big, green eyes down at the other man in surprise.

“C’mon, Baby,” And, the presumptuous son of a bitch patted his upper thighs like _Come n’ take a seat_.

And, Simmons swallowed so hard, made almost a _grimace_ of uncertainty, but-

But, he did it.

Although, not without Grif’s reminder to grab the dumb sandwich.

Typical.

Simmons found himself getting down onto the ground to _straddle_ the lazyass, and…

And, he winced as his bare knees touched the cold, hard floor on either side of the other man.

Grif, instantly, like he didn’t even have to think about it, unfolded his arms from behind his head, and brought them down to cup his hands underneath Simmons’ knees so he could rest them more comfortably into his palms.

Instinctively, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against his skin.

Simmons sniffled a bit without meaning to.

Why was Grif being nice to him, right then?

He didn’t deserve it.

Hadn’t Grif- Had Grif been about to- to… Had they been about to… move up their timetable?... And, Simmons had freaked out like a total pussy! But- But, it had all started happening so fast (And the- the scars…), and- and he hadn’t been able to catch his breath (And- And the scars…), and he had actually started to feel a sort of comfort underneath the terrible nerves about the idea of _knowing_ when they were going to (And the SCARS!)…

It was just… the idea of getting to be more mentally and physically prepared had started to appeal to him (Grif really knew him too damn well.).

He hated pop quizzes! He never performed as well as he did if he was prepared-

Simmons was, unthinkingly, clutching the nearly finished sandwich to his chest like it was a prized treasure. He didn’t even know what he was doing. He was- was getting so nervous!

But, of course, Grif distracted him from all that.

“Hey, Kissass, who’s being the hoarder here? C’mon, Mama Bear, aren’t you gonna-”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. That “mama bear” thing he’d teased him about that morning over the oatmeal. Was he really calling him that? For real? And, Simmons thought Richard was cheesy- Well, he _was_. But, still.

Simmons, as he’d done with the cranberries, just shut the dumbass up by shoving the remainder of the sandwich into the big mouth’s big mouth.

Only Grif didn’t protest this time. Surprise, surprise. But, simply slowly chewed, and swallowed. Watching Simmons thoughtfully the whole time.

“Wha-What!,” Simmons sputtered, getting so uncomfortable under Grif’s silent scrutiny that he started fidgeting like mad.

And, Grif squeezed Simmons’ knees almost reassuringly before quietly asking, “So… what happened?”

Oh, my fuck. He was asking about it- He was actually- Wait. But, what was he asking about _exactly_? I- I mean, he hadn’t been entirely clear-

Shit… No… Simmons knew. He knew what he was asking.

“Do you wanna talk about-,” Grif began.

But, Simmons couldn’t bear it, and he was blurting out… blurting out, “Oh- OH! I just remembered! We- We, uh, need- need to… brush our teeth before bed! We, um, had- had,” Holy fuck, he was on the verge of _tears_. He couldn’t… He didn’t want to remember… Not that. Please, not that, “-had a lot of sweets so- so…”

Grif looked at him silently. His expression was very serious. One hand moved out from under the redhead’s knee to gently brush away a tear Simmons hadn’t even realized had escaped him.

But, then, he was quickly adopting his well-known complaining tone and petulant expression, “But, Simmmooons, that’s fucking dumb! You’ll just make me do it in the morning _anyway_ like always…”

Simmons couldn’t respond right away. He wanted to cry for an entirely different reason, now. Grif’s kindness, his willingness to play into their snarky little game… when he so obviously wanted answers… That he would push that aside, simply because it was what the redhead needed in that moment… it made Simmons’ chest hurt.

"C’mon, dude,” Grif whined, practically prompting the other man to play along with their familiar banter so he could chill the fuck out, “Let’s just go to bed. I’m fuckin’ tired-”

And, though, Simmons may’ve missed a beat, this truly was such a well-known, well-traveled road they traversed that when his mouth opened… Pure Simmons Bitchery™ sprung forth, “Do I look like I give a fuck?! You’re not getting cavities on MY watch!”

Grif smiled, but continued to complain, “Pfft. Didn’t know you were the goddamn _tooth fairy,_ Simmons. I mean, sure, I DID figure you for a fairy, but-”

“Sh-Shut up, fatass!,” Simmons squeaked furiously. Oh, now he actually WAS pissed!, “It doesn’t even make sense for you to make fun of ME when **you** -”

Grif simply chuckled, and brushed it all aside. As if Simmons was being too freaking sensitive or something. (Hmph! Well, HE obviously hadn’t grown up as Simmons, and Richard, and Jimmy had! He couldn’t possibly understand! And, he- he-)

But, then, Grif’s hand was cupping the back of his neck. And, he was pulling him down right on top of him. Kissing him softly. Maybe even, apologetically.

And, Simmons had to sink into his warmth. Tangle his fingers into his hair. Pulling him even closer. Slipping his tongue into his mouth just so he could taste him, again…

When Simmons pulled back up-

“Shit. You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Grif muttered, hand moving now to cup his face. Pointer finger moving up to smooth down an arched red brow.

He seemed completely unaware that he’d said it out loud (This was starting to seem like a trend.) until Simmons started turning that typical shade.

Holy fuck. Neither of them could fuckin’ _believe_ it. He’d actually even said it in ENGLISH.

Before either of them could respond to that, in particular, though… Simmons heard himself promise, mumbling quietly in a voice that couldn’t hide the shame, “I-I promise… it won’t be like this tomorrow… I won’t… I won’t f-fuck it up.”

Grif frowned, and tipped the redhead’s bowed head back up to face him, “Simmons… don’t say shit like that. We can just do whatever you wanna do, or just hang the fuck out. For real, no rush, alright?… And, listen, if we do… if you wanna keep you shirt on or whatever, that’s fine, too. There’s no frickin’ set rules on how all this has to go, dude.”

Simmons looked down at him. Likely looking too insecure, but he honestly couldn’t help it, “S-Seriously, why are- are you b-being so nice to me?”

“I already told you…”

“What? N-No you didn’t…”

Grif looked at him meaningfully… and it clicked.

Flushing, Simmons asked, “Cause I’m… ‘yours’?”

“Yep,” Grif agreed like that was ‘just the facts, ma’am’. Or, sir. Whatever.

But, now, the redhead was scowling, “Like a fucking snack cake?”

Grif, without even seeming to acknowledge the magnitude of what he was saying, flippantly stated, “Nah, better. Like… an endless supply of Oreos or…”

Simmons’ surprised squeak cut him off, “D-Did you _hear_ what you just said?”

“…Y-Yeeaahh…”

“That w-w-was practically a pr-proposal!,” Simmons sputtered. Still in too much shock to realize what HE’D just said.

“Uh… I…” –Grif was getting all squirmy an’ uncomfortable, now. Ah, crap. This was “feelings” crap, and he wasn’t always so great at all that. As he’d tell Simmons later he’d rather _show_ him how he felt… over and over, again, until he was just a puddle of twitching, over-stimulated nerd covered in both their- Uh… anyway… But, Grif seemed to get that Simmons wanted some _words_ at the moment, so-

“Well, I was th-thINKing like it was a good comparison cause… um, ya know, you’re all creamy n’ delicious n’ shit, and, uh…” Did Grif’s voice crack a little in there? Holy hell, it did.

Simmons really didn’t notice right then, though. He was SO red.

He jumped right up off Grif, “Um-Um-Uh, We still gotta- gotta go brush our teeth! C’mon you lazy ass, lessgo, lessgo!”

And, Grif was SO grateful to be let off the hook that he didn’t even argue.

But, simply took the hand Simmons offered him, and-

It’s embarrassing as fuck to admit, but… They might’ve kept holding hands without even really thinking too much into it, as they walked out of Grif’s room, and down the hall to the showers/bathrooms…

Yeah, it was embarrassing alright, but-

It had to be admitted cause DONUT saw!

He must’ve heard their habitual bickering as they neared his room, so he took a quick peep outta his door…

And, then, they could _hear_ him squealing to Lopez, loud enough to wake up Blue Base, as he popped back into his room, “OMGeeee!!! It’s ADORABLE! I’m sooo haaaapppyyy!”

They’d jumped apart, but it was too late. Donut was already picking out wedding venues, and working on color schemes.

Oh, well.

Poor Simmons and Grif were so exhausted by the time they made it back to Grif’s room-

They’d been held up by Donut trying to come in the bathrooms, and take pics of them (“To show your future kid or kids one day!”), and when they, _finally_ shooed him away (Although, not without him getting a coupla sneaky shots, though.), they were held up, again, by Simmons having to bitch Grif out for the _thousandth_ time about how one **properly** brushes their teeth.

Circular, circular motions, for fuck sake! Not left to right! And, not so hard, dumbass! Why is it so damn difficult to understand!

Donut snuck back around, and even got a few more pics on the sly. Pics of Simmons crowding Grif up against the sink as he forcibly took his toothbrush from him- And, holding the side of the man’s head firmly in one hand, the redhead proceeded to show him, _again_ , how to brush properly by physically demonstrating on the lazy Hawaiian.

The scowl on Simmons’ face, and the languid smirk on Grif’s were caught quite well. (And… well… it really DID end up being one of the pics of them their daughter said was up there with her all-time favorites. She even had it right on her dresser…)

But, still, imagine Simmons’ surprise when he found out Grif only brushed wrong when in front of him to get under his skin (And, cause he loved Simmons’ “Mama Bear” side that, even if with the rough side of its paw, took care of him.)

Regardless, though, they were back in the room before they knew it, and tiredly climbing into bed. Not even questioning how they should do this, or who was sleeping where or on which side.

Grif seemed to instantly have understood that maybe Simmons being against the wall, with himself on the outside edge… Simmons feeling “trapped” like that… was not a good idea.

So, he laid down on the side of the bed that was against the wall as he had earlier, and reached for Simmons. Pulling him down to lay facing him. On his side, beside him (Fuck! The bunks were small… But, neither of them seemed to mind. ), and against him. Pressing his head down onto his chest, and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Simmons was humming quietly, again, as he tangled his fingers with Grif’s atop the Hawaiian’s belly. And, he felt Grif’s other arm pulling him closer and closer until Simmons simply threw a leg overtop him, and…

Oh… that was so nice.

He could drift off right then and there…

But…

All at once, it hit him. This terrible fear. Fear that this would all turn out to be a dream. Something to disappear in the morning light-

And, Simmons was leaning up. Tilting his head up, as Grif, feeling the sudden tension in his body, was turning his head down to him.

And, Simmons kissed him _fiercely, **emotionally**_.

As if it could be the last time.

Tasting mint, and tasting Grif.

Grif kissed him back more soothingly than anything else. Like it’d be okay. Like _they’d_ be okay.

“Dude, what’s wrong?,” Grif asked when they pulled back from each other’s lips.

And, Simmons hid his face into the other man’s solid chest, “I… nothing… This… This was just… nice…”

“Hey. Don’t talk like… It’s not _over_ , Baby.”

“… You promise?,” Simmons whispered.

“Yeah.”

“R-Really?,” Simmons couldn’t help how uncertain he sounded.

“What you wanna pinkie swear?,” Grif teased, very obviously, trying to lighten the mood.

Simmons scoffed, but, then… “…M-Maybe?”

And, though, Grif snorted, he hooked their pinkies together.

But, before he could shake them, Simmons stopped him to ask, a bit nervously, yet, ending off a tad haughtily, “W-Wait! What… What are we shaking or swearing on? These things have to be done _correctly_ , you know-”

The Hawaiian hummed thoughtfully…

And he, abruptly, remembered Donut’s word’s from earlier that night:

_”Like, **anything** , could ever keep you away from your beloved Sims… You, and Simmons? You’ll, totally, always be together in the end… Anything else? Pfft… is just beyond silly!”_

“That we’ll be together in the end. Always. No matter what,” Grif blurted out before he realized just how f’ing _sappy_ that shit sounded.

Simmons tried to hide how flushed and flustered he was, as he murmured, “A-Agreed.”

And, they shook their pinkies almost solemnly before Simmons glanced up, and Grif glanced down-

And, meeting each other’s eyes they both chuckled a little nervously… then, just cracked the fuck up. Cause, son of a bitch, they were a coupla strange dudes. They probably really were pretty perfect for each other…

  
  
But, that’d all been a couple hours earlier. And, they’d drifted off snuggled up together, holding onto each other… But, Simmons had woken back up, because…

He had this incredible sense of urgency. After all that had happened this night, he HAD to take this quiet moment, safe in Grif’s arms, to attempt to- to… **remember**.

He’d laid there. Thinking over the night, and the last couple hours he and Grif had spent together. He’d thought over Richard’s dream that he’d been able to peep into- thought over-

And, that was what set it off. Thinking of the dream, thinking of Richard… Worrying about Richard… About Richard… About his broth-

It washed over him. Memories so bright, so vivid… he, again, had a moment to be shocked that they had been able to be hidden (Hidden? Hidden?) away.

And, his eyes fluttered shut as his mind went back.

Opened doors for him that Richard had desperately tried to keep barred shut.

Laid bare secrets that after what had happened (What? _What_ had happened?) he was never meant to know…

Secrets.

Let them begin.

Begin to awaken.

  
  
Simmons Residence – Half a Year Before Accident/Incident:  
Richie aka Richard Simmons the Third (Who will come to be known as: Simmons) - Age: 9  
Richard Simmons the II- Physical Age: 15

  
_NO!_

_*SCREEEECH*_

_NO MORE!_

Richie, instantly, sat straight up in bed. His thick down comforter falling down into his lap.

He’d been sound asleep, but-

“Richard?,” he whispered into his empty, dimly-lit room.

He knew the sound of his brother’s voice. Even if he only seemed to, somehow, be hearing it in his head, right then.

_I Don’t Wanna Do This Anymore!_

_*CRRAACCKK*_

The small redhead clambered out of his huge cherry-wood four-poster…

The wooden floorboards were icy cold on his bare feet, but he didn’t care. And, he didn’t stop to put on slippers, or to pull on a robe over his pajamas… (Although, he did unthinkingly, pull the covers back up to look more neat, more presentable.)

And, he was running. Swift and sure-footed. No clumsiness or nervous hesitance to be found.

He was down the long hall, and standing in front of his big brother’s room only mere moments later.

About to call out-

But…

Richard’s furious voice drifted out from behind the thick door.

And, he paused.

“NO! I won’t do it! I won’t!... I don’t give two-shits about that, old man- They have KIDS, you old fuck!... No… NO, I said… What?... What does _he_ have ta’ do with any of this shit?!... Don’t even THINK about threatening me with that! …Don’t you _fucking **dare**_ bring the Kid into this! I will **destroy** you if you fuck with Richie!...”

The “Kid” in question jolted in fear at the sound of his name. Richard had to have been on the link with their father who was at a “conference”…

“…Then, don’t test me like that! You aren’t funny, asshole!…You… But, I don’t wanna actually… Will you fucking **listen** to me, already?! I’ll figure something else out, okay? It doesn’t have ta' be so _extreme_ for a first offen-… Second offense! Fine! I don’t give a fuck-… NO, I am NOT being _weak_!... Goddammit, you mother fucking pig! I said to Leave. Richie. out of this!”

The small boy’s hand hovered over the door panel.

“… Okay… OKAY, I said… Just give me a couple days ta' figure something else out… Well, I’m so mother fucking SORRY to disappoint you. Sorry that I give a fuck about human fucking beings, and their measly fucking lives. _Must be a **glitch**_ or *Sarcastic Gasp*, maybe, a _**bug**_ -”

Glitch? B-Bug? Like… like a computer-

But, Richard was continuing, and Richie didn’t MEAN to be eavesdropping like this, but he kinda- kinda HAD to, ya know?

“Didn’t think you could pull a _double-whammy_ without any  bugs or glitches, did ya, old man?... Don’t you tell me to calm down! YOU calm down… Fuck… Fine… Alright. No later than Tuesday. I got it… You already **know** what I want outta it… NO! Not _that_. I wanna take the boys to my mom’s this summer when… when the turnover happens… Richie and his little friend, obviously. Who else would I- Dammit! Don’t _say_ that! He’s just a _kid_. They’re just kids, Senior. Put the goddamn bottle down for five minutes. You can’t say that shit about _kids_. They can’t help it if- I KNOW you don’t care...”

Don’t… Don’t care about what? Being mean to Richie or mean about his especially “girly” best friend? Well, that wasn’t any kinda new information.

“…Quit questionin' me about all that! I said I. Got. It. It’ll get done. I’ll figure it out. Don’t I always?… Sure. Alright… Pfft. _Riiight_. Love you, too, asshole… Right… Bye…”

There was only a barely heard “Fuckin’ bastard…” before the room grew quiet.

_Finally._ What _was_ all of that? What was- What did-

So many questions, but…

But honestly? All Richie was _really_ thinking about, in that moment, was how Richard had said “Love you…” to their Father (Even if it had sounded sarcastic, and he’d called him a… you know…)… Still, it made the little redhead feel weird. Richard didn’t say that to people. Well, except for him.

Richard was pretty… closed off to others.

Except for Richie, Or “the Kid”, as he loved to call him.

It was kinda a thing.

Richard’s most recent girlfriend had even got mad about it the other week before her and Richard were going to go out somewhere, and she’d been mean to Richie about it…

• • • • • 

  
Richie had let her in, and called anxiously (Girls made him SO nervous, and she didn’t help the situation.) for his older brother. His young voice cracking in a way he could only hope would fade as he aged.

But, in that moment, under the pretty brunette girl’s watchful, sharp hazel-eyed gaze, he had no hope of not sounding like the pre-pubescent boy he currently was.

She was tall. Her lovely features only accentuated by her understated makeup. Already, um… sh-shapely, and with her hair up in a high ponytail.

And, what looked like sparkles and gems glittering at her ears and throat. Wrists, and ankle.

And, she smelled like a warm blueberry muffin dripping with melted butter and honey.

The little redhead was kinda in awe of her.

And, she was **terrifying**.

But, Richard, had just ambled out of Father’s office (No man’s land for the little redhead.)… And, hardly acknowledged her until he’d “checked in” with Richie.

Laying a hand on top of the smaller boy’s head.

Then, wrapping an arm companionably around his thin shoulders, and hugging him against his side, he’d warmly asked, “What’s up, Kid? How’s my little dude?”

And, Richie clung to him, and simply mumbled, “Okay.”

Richard was always like that with him.

Just little things. Little things. Small demonstrations of care and warmth that showed their connection to anyone in the immediate vicinity, and that steadied them both. Helped Richie with his nerves, and his feelings of never being worthy of anything. And, helped Richard with his bottled up rage, and feelings of not fitting in with the people around them. Of not being quite… right…

But, although, this casual affection was very normal for them by this point (In a community where such a thing was not very much so.), Richard showing this affectionate side to his nature that he apparently reserved for someone that was not her, obviously, ticked his girlfriend, -Chrissy-, off.

Though, it wasn’t the first time she’d seen how close they were, and likely been annoyed by it, she’d always been smart enough to hide any ill-will she felt toward the little redhead from Richard, who would NEVER put up with someone being mean to his beloved brother…

As she obviously knew this, she made sure his brother was still too busy with him to notice the cold glare that she sent the small boy’s way, before she simply nicely reminded Richard about getting… something… that didn’t make any sense to Richie.

Richard sighed in a very put upon way, and said he had to go get them, and he’d be right back.

And, there was this weird instant where the younger boy got the feeling that the two teenagers didn’t actually like each other that much… as his brother took a moment, and gazed at her so piercingly, so _searchingly_ (Like he was trying to get right inside her head, and work out exactly what her motives where, and whether he approved of them or not.)…

But, she simply cocked a hip, resting a beautifully manicured hand on it, as she gave the raven-haired teen a look that Richie couldn’t begin to decipher at that age… And, Richard sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked away. Not bothering to speak another word to her, right then. As if whatever he’d been looking for… he hadn’t found it. Not in her.

But, apparently, he’d go spend time with her anyway… Richie didn’t understand people, at all.

As Richard turned to go up the stairs, the small boy, head bowed, couldn’t help but to reach out and lightly touch his wrist, asking quietly, “Do- Do you have t-ta’ go?”

And, despite Chrissy’s irritated sniff, and Richard’s warning glance toward her, Richie’s older brother knelt down beside him, and softly murmured, “What’s wrong, Kid? Do you need me ta' stay?”

And, the redhead _wanted_ to say yes-… He didn’t trust her! You couldn’t hate _one_ of them without hating **both** of them. It didn’t work that way. How many times had Richie heard his older brother yell those exact words at Father when the “old man” was trying to buddy up to Richard while still being so cruel to Richie? Especially, while Richard had to be away... But- but still… That wasn’t the point. Richard had asked if he needed him to stay, and… with their father gone for the next couple days he really didn’t exactly _need_ him to, but he **wanted** to have him stay, and- and…

“N-No,” he stammered lowly, forcing himself to be ‘mature’, “I… just w-wondered….”

“Hmm… Tell you what, Kid,” the raven-haired teenager smoothed back the bright, shiny strands of red hair that had fallen into his younger brother’s face as he soothingly suggested, “What if I keep my link right with me, and always on so you can reach me whenever, and I can come right back if you need me to?”

“Richard, that’s-,” Chrissy sounded beyond annoyed.

And, that wasn’t very smart on her part. Cause Richard’s protective side, instantly, reared up, and-

“What?,” he snapped at her, pulling Richie against him. Pressing one of the boy’s ears, -the whole side of his head really-, almost defensively into his chest, while placing a hand over the redhead’s other ear as if attempting to block out, and protect his delicate sensibilities from their conversation... But, Richie heard, anyway, “You got a fucking problem, Chrissy? You think I don’t know your damn game? That I don’t know THE game? I’m sure your old man and mine are real proud, but quit with the frickin’ dramatics.”

She was silent for a long moment as Richard glared at her over his younger brother’s head, and, then, she insisted delicately, “I have no idea what you’re talking-”

“Save it…” He turned back to his younger brother, releasing him, and squeezing his shoulder lightly, “… I won’t be gone long, alright?... And, then, we’ll hang out.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Richard repeated, “I love you, Kid,” And, he hugged him, again, before releasing him, and getting up to head to the stairs, coolly throwing over his shoulder to the silently fuming female in the room, “I’ll just be a sec. Don’t bug the Kid.”

And, then, Richie was alone…

With a _girl_.

And, not just any girl.

A girl that was MAD at him.

She, apparently, knew that Richard really wouldn’t be long, cause as soon as he was out of earshot-

“He’s going to end up breaking up with me cause you don’t like me. Like he’s done with everyone else,” she quickly though softly accused. As, though, even she knew about Richard’s unnaturally heightened senses, “My father’s gonna be so pissed… And, so’s his…”

“H-Huh? No! I-I never s-said to- er-er… I n-never told him… I- I d-d-didn’t-”

“And, you know what?… -Screw it. I’m sayin’ it-… You’re not _exactly_ his ‘kid’, you know,” she looked at him like he was a bug on the wall, “Not by _natural_ order -Not that there’s anything _natural_ about either of you,” she sniffed disdainfully, then, continued as if Richie should know exactly what she was talking about, “Not by Law. No matter what weird stuff-”

_Stop. Just STOP!_

Richie silently begged her to simply Shut. Up. Perhaps, being a little wuss, a frightened child (But, give him a break. He WAS a child.) that didn’t want to hear. That wanted to continue to be protected… To be sheltered… But… there was a tingle running up his spine, to the back of his neck… within his very head itself… She was making him… making him…

She looked at him with nothing but contempt as she reiterated, “No matter _what_ weird, unauthorized stuff his mad scientist mom and your guys’ dad might’ve cooked up in the lab. My parents work there, too, you know, and I know ALL about **him** , and about **_you_**.”

She sounded so derisive.

And, she was making him… ANGRY.

“But, at least, Richard’s not like _you_. He’s…”

“He’s what?”

Richie almost couldn’t believe how calm his voice, suddenly, sounded. Almost, couldn’t believe this was HIM standing up to her, rather than Richard swooping in to the rescue.

Apparently, neither could she.

All at once, she looked uncomfortable, and uncertain. Like she hadn’t expected that the pretty little kitten still had his claws… and she was wondering if there were any other hidden weapons he may have secreted away.

-It was cold-

“You’re right. I don’t like you,” Richie heard himself say in an incredibly even and steady tone for a normally so anxious little guy like himself.

-Everything was, suddenly, so cold-

Chrissy huffed in offense, “Well- well-”

-Why was everything so cold?-

“And, maybe, you should leave-”

- _Cold-cold. So cold_ -

She winced. Arms wrapping around herself as she looked anxiously around the room.

“I said you should…”

“Look, Richie,” she cut in, voice almost inaudible, as she glanced at the ceiling above them, “Calm down, okay? I just, uh, I was just joking.”

She sounded nervous. Strangely nervous. Which was funny cause Richie, himself, actually sounded very calm for once.

Very, very calm. Very- very-

“You… should leave,” he continued to quietly insist. Not noticing how almost mechanical, and just empty of any human emotion his voice had become.

“Richie-”

“…Just leave… for now… For now, you should leave… for now- for n- for- **four** \- **seven** \- **one** -“

“Crap! No, don’t!,” the girl hissed urgently under her breath.

“- **six** \- **three** \- **threethreethree** -”

Despite how unfocused his eyes had become, he still saw her moving swiftly toward him-

And, then, everything went dark.

  
Richie could hear his big brother’s voice… then it drifted away… then he could hear him, again…

He faded in and out of consciousness. Catching snippets of sentences…

“What… fucking do… him! BITCH!... KILL ANYONE WHO… Told… no one touches… MY KID!”

Finally, everything cleared enough for the small redhead to see that his brother was curled protectively down by, and nearly overtop him.

SHE was kneeling down beside them, as well.

Neither of them realized he was awake, yet, though.

“I keep telling you that I didn’t DO anything,” she was insisting as if it wasn’t the first time she’d said it, “He just passed out, and fell… And, hit his head.”

She seemed to realize that the dark-haired teen was about to question her further, or, at the very least, yell at her about not trying to catch him or something, and she quickly continued, “He passed out after he up and outta the blue started spouting off code-”

The redhead caught the surprising look of fear that crossed his brother’s face before he appeared to force it back, and hurriedly, though quietly, exclaimed, “Fuck! SHH! Don’t say that kinda crap so loud… Just… keep it the fuck down… Now, what code?…”

“… I didn’t catch it… And, you’re telling ME to keep it down? Seriously? With how loud YOU always are? And, with the things you _say_?”

“Yeah, well,” he gave her a bland look, “you know depending on who the fuck you are… some shit’s paid closer attention to than other shit-”

The redhead, finally, was able to actually stir, “Wha-”

“Richie!,” the relief in the older boy’s voice was more than evident, and his attention was immediately directed entirely on him, “You alright, Kid? You almost gave me a heart attack! What the hell happened?”

“Uhh… I… I don’t remember…”

And, he didn’t. At that point, he really didn’t. Though, his gaze did drift toward the girl in the room.

“Look,” Chrissy said to Richard, sounding unrepentant, but serious, “Uhm… What do you want to…”

“I’m gonna stay in with him tonight,” Richard, promptly, replied. Then, as if as an afterthought, he added, “You can stay if Richie’s cool with it-”

“Oh, no, no,” she answered, hurriedly. She seemed so uncomfortable under Richie’s quiet study, “He must be feeling under the weather, or something… That’s, um, probably, why he didn’t want you to go out tonight.”

“Huh… Maybe…” Richard didn’t necessarily sound convinced, “Was that it, Kid?”

“Mmm… I dunno…”

“Yeah. Better put him to bed,” she went on as though it’d been confirmed, “I really hope you feel better soon, Richie.”

And, the young redhead saw how, in that very instant, his brother just _softened_ toward her. Like, somehow, her showing concern, showing care (Although, Richie was sure it was as forced and as fake as could be.) toward him, toward “the Kid”, placed her in such a better light to Richard.

And, the raven-haired older boy reached out to tug her pony tail almost affectionately before she stood up, making her blush a little, and mumble, “I’ll… see you later?…”

“Sure,” he told her.

And, as Richard turned back to him, Richie realized, though he couldn’t quite recall where the idea had come from, that maybe they wouldn’t be breaking up anytime soon, after all.

And, maybe she even DID actually like Richard.

But, as she turned back, seeing Richard still so preoccupied with his younger brother, she chanced throwing a quick narrow-eyed look filled with such warning at the little, mildly injured boy. That his older brother was far too busy to catch. After all, he was quite occupied with sitting cross-legged on the floor, and pulling the smaller boy’s head and shoulders up onto his lap so he could carefully check out and feel around the small knot on the redhead’s forehead that he’d, apparently, gotten from crashing straight down onto the luckily rug-covered floor to notice anything else.

As far as he was concerned, the girl might have already left.

And, he, obviously, assumed the redhead’s wince was from his careful doctoring, rather than from the discomfort of having someone look at him like… like he was in their way… And, they wished there was a way to _remove_ him.

Yeah. Richie knew she didn’t like HIM, at all. And, she never had.

It was like his father aka Simmons Senior, had gotten to her. Had turned her against Richie before he even had a chance to make his own impression. NOT to say that he definitely would’ve made a good one on his own, but…

But, there really **is** something to be said about making your OWN bad first impression... Did that sound weird? Oh well…

• • • • • 

But, whatever the case, that had happened a week earlier. And, even if Chrissy could be swayed by other’s opinions about him, Richie knew Richard couldn’t.

And, he, also, knew how his big brother _really_ felt about their father… So, maybe, that (Richard saying “Love you” to their father.)… maybe, that wasn’t really what was bothering him. Maybe, what he was actually wondering about was- was…

Whether or not their _father_ had told… had said- said the words… actually told Richard that he… he “loved him” when they were hanging up… He’d _never_ said that to Richie before…

Not even once.

But, their father and Richard had an odd relationship. Father would _never_ allow anyone else to speak to him the way that Richard did.

He even seemed to LIKE it, and-

And-

And, all at once, none of that mattered. Because the small boy felt it. Felt it starting, sparking up… Felt the current in the air. Felt all the small hairs on his slight frame try to simultaneously stand on end. And, his body started to _lean_ closer to the door. Surely toward the direction of his brother.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened.

And, the silence in the room was so suddenly broken by Richard’s enraged cry of-

“THAT FUCK! Making me do this-”

_*CREAK* *CREEAAK*_

“I hate him- I HATE HIM!”

_*CRAAACK*_

Richie started to cover his ears.

It was singing. Singing through his veins.

Snapping and crackling.

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

And, it blew through the young redheaded boy like an icy wind. Straight to his very bones.

_*CR-CRASH* *BANGBANG* *THUMP* *BOO-OOM*_

A cacophony of sound rising to a sharp, discordant crescendo…

But, the red-haired boy simply took a shaky, too short breath, and moved his still small hands back down.

He was inputting the unlock code (He was the only one Richard had told it to.) as the sound of the last crash was still reverberating down the hall, and throughout the whole of the upstairs.

But, his mother wouldn’t hear it. She’d taken her “night-time medicine”, and wouldn’t hear _anything_ until she woke up enough to take her milder, “morning medicine”. Or, as Richie called it, her “be awake, but still be fuzzy medicine”.

And, Father was out of town…

They wouldn’t be any help anyway. (They were normally part of the problem, after all.)

Richie stepped into the room-

It was a MESS. Shards and thick slivers of glass seemed to have rained from the _ceiling_. So far away from the antique full-length mirror’s frame that had originally housed them that it seemed as if the mirror _itself_ had spontaneously exploded. Blowing the glass outwards, and all over the place.

Then, there were the knick-knacks, the fancy vases Richie’s mother had all over the house, but was, normally, much too out of it to fill with flowers from the garden on her own…

So, Richie, wordlessly, took care of it in her stead…

And, listened in silence as visitors to the house complimented her over and over on “her” so perfect, breathtakingly lovely and artistic arrangements…

Knowing… always knowing that if **they** knew that HE, a little boy, too naturally pretty or not, that should be out “roughhousing and playing sports”, was, instead, trying out different flower arrangements- using the leftovers to create whimsical flower crowns and chains with his even prettier friend, Jimmy, as they giggled, and carefully braided baby’s breath and rose buds into each other’s hair… and argued over whose grass whistle was the most shrill…

If **they** knew about his hungrily studying any and everything he could get his hands on with his best friend-

And, only one, really. Apart from his big brother. His other best friend. Who ruffled his hair, and told him _he_ was the only friend, -brother or not, regardless of age-, that he trusted. So he was Richard’s best friend, AND his favorite little dude. “And, everyone else can go suck it,” he’d declared, to Richie’s curious, “Suck what?”, an’ the raven-haired older boy’s response of, “An… egg?”

Heh.

Sometimes, Richard would even smuggle in secular curriculum for the two younger boys as if they were old timey dirty magazines…

If **they** knew about any of that…

Or, knew that Richie was still playing the piano, that he’d started playing at four years old-… knew that he was still sneakily playing and practicing it with Jimmy at the smaller boy’s house when his parents weren’t home (Working on little duets together. Jostling and hip-checking each other when one of them missed a note. A much more gentle correction than they’d receive from others.), even though his father had forbidden it, and even _given away_ their baby grand the year before to Richie’s tears of dismay. Given it away cause, “Too damn girly. A’ready fuckin’ girly enough, boy.”

If **they** knew all that, or any of it (And, so many other of his less than “masculine” pursuits and avenues of interest.)… They would be uncomfortable at best, but more likely, disgruntled and _disgusted_.

And, quick to tattle to his father.

But, oh boy. They’d probably forget about ALL of that if any of _them_ were to see _Richard’s room_ , at that particular moment.

See how… _unexplainable_ the damage or the cause of the damage appeared…

Like some supernatural entity had lost control, and caused havoc…

The decorative pieces, as well as, the vases, themselves, weren’t thrown, but, once again, like the antique mirror, they looked as if they’d exploded outwards from right there on their place on Richard’s fireplace mantle, dresser, and night stands.

The bright flowers that Richie’d taken extra special care with, as he knew they cheered Richard up, somehow, strewn across, and at all corners of the large room along with the ruins of the blown glass and porcelain.

Richie had to admit… It was sorta… fascinating. How the heck could you scientifically explain such a thing?

And, the snap of electromagnetic current that seemed to linger in the air…

The redheaded boy took a step further into the room.

Forgetting about his bare feet-

“Fuck! Richie, stop! The glass-”

And-

* _CrunchCrunchCrunch*_ Richard was, suddenly, there. Swooping him up so high into his arms. (He was probably already 5’10”) Holding him so close.

“Shit! Kid, are you alright? Did you step on any-”

“No,” Richie assured. Automatically wrapping his already long for his age and size, legs around his older, and much too tense, brother. Who, in turn, quickly pressed his face down into his shoulder.

“Don’t- Don’t look, okay? It’s a mess in here. I- fuck…” Richard’s voice sounded so strange. Too strained, too stressed, “I’m sorry, Kid. Didn’t mean to… wake you up…”

And, Richie encircled his thin arms comfortingly around his brother’s neck, softly asking, “Do you wanna… Can you come sleep in my room with me?”

Silence.

When the smaller boy pulled back to look up at him, his raven-haired older brother was still looking, -brilliant blue eyes narrowed-, down at the shards of glass on the floor. His jaw clenched.

The _pressure_. The vibration. It was starting up, again… Richie’s teeth wanted to chatter.

But, he forced out, “R-Richard?”

“Yeah, uh…” he sounded so distracted… but, everything… the very air around them… calmed, “What did you have another bad dream, or somethin’?”

No. But, you look like you did, Richie thought, but he mumbled, “Y-yeah… So, can you?... Richard?”

And, his older brother squeezed him so tightly. Laid his cheek down on top of his head, “Sure. Let’s- Let’s get out of here. I’ll… I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

And, Richard kicked his boots off (He had his boots and leather jacket on, even though he was dressed for bed in dark sweats, and a white t-shirt… Had he gone outside this late for some reason? Before the call?) at his bedroom door before carrying the smaller boy on his hip back down the hall, and to his room. He pulled the thick blanket, that his well-behaved little brother had automatically pulled up before rushing to his room, to his side, back down.

And, they got into the large four-poster bed. (After Richard pulled off and hung his jacket over one of the posts.) Both internally sighing at how much calmer, more relaxed, just all together _better_ they felt when they were together. When they could physically see that the other was safe.

But…

Still…

“What are you thinking about?,” Richie asked quietly, as he curled closer into his brother’s arms.

Richard’s chin was resting atop Richie’s head, so when he huffed a little in amusement, those bright red strands shifted and fluttered prettily under the force of his breath, “You sound like a chick.”

Oh, and the little boy squirmed SO very angrily, as he pulled back to scowl up into Richard’s face, “I-I’m not a-a ‘chick’! I’m a boy!”

Richard smiled at him slightly. But, he looked tired. So tired. “I know. I meant that’s like… like something a girlfriend would say.”

“Richard!,” Richie squeaked, “I’m not- not your girlfriend, either! I’m your brother!”

That made the older boy snort, “Oh, Kid. The things you say. You take everything too damn literally.”

“Whatever, Richard,” the little boy sighed so long-sufferingly, in hindsight, it must’ve been hilarious, “But, what _did_ you start thinking about? You started to seem really… not happy.”

The older boy opened his mouth. Obviously about to brush it off… but, then, he looked down into his brother’s upturned face. That brilliant azure locking onto that so bright, deep green, and…

And, he couldn’t lie to him.

So, he asked it. Although, it terrified him to even acknowledge it… he asked it.

“Do you think… am I like him?” His voice was incredibly soft. It actually even shook with the effort of putting the dreaded thoughts into words. But, at least, he got it out.

And, Richie instantly understood.

“Like Father?,” he mumbled softly, as though afraid to be overheard. But, then, he continued before Richard could answer, “You look like him. Exactly like him.”

He answered honestly, as Richard had known he would.

That was part of why he’d been so hesitant about asking him in the first place…

“Or, how he DID look. The old pictures of him when he was your age, and younger, they look totally the same as you now, and before. Like-Like you’re identical twins, or something! Well, except, you’re still young n’, you know, handsome, I guess.”

That got Richard to let out a small playful chuckle, as he teased, “Heh… You guess?”

“Yeah… Oh. But, you’re my brother, and, um, another boy so that’s kinda like r-really ick, right? Hmmm… But, I’m just giving my, um… _observations_ , though.”

Richard bit back a laugh as his little brother’s brow furrowed in such deep concentration.

“Mmm… guess I have to say you _are_ ‘handsome’, then, huh? What is that exactly, anyways? It’s gotta be better than dumb ol’ ‘pretty’ –blah-,” the younger boy stuck out his tongue in disgust, “I _know_ **that**.”

Richard hugged him close. Kissed his forehead as if he was precious. Not simply his brother. But, somehow, in some way, something more than that. Like he was almost practically his OWN child.

“Kid, there’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ pretty, alright? Don’t listen to the assholes out there, or in this family. They’re probably jus' jealous.”

“You think?,” the redhead asked, burrowing closer into him. Breathing in that distinctive scent. That mixture of spearmint, and expensive leather… and the crisp bite in the air that signaled an oncoming lightning storm.

That combination of scents that he would always associate with his big brother.

But, every now and then… not TOO often, but, when he was really stressing out about something, he’d smell like _smoke_. Sometimes, even the super icky-smelling smoke that some of the boys in the higher grades smelled like after lunch… And, Richie would get SO mad. Squawking and squeaking angrily at him, until Richard gave up, and washed the offensive smell away.

Richie was scowling in annoyance at the memory without even realizing it until Richard ran his hand playfully over his face as if to wipe the expression off.

“Would I lie to you? C’mon, who’s my favorite little dude, huh?”

“Me!,” Richie declared, having forgotten what they were talking about precisely, but knowing the answer to that instantly. And, he giggled when Richard tickled his ribs at his prompt response.

And, they could’ve gone to sleep, then.

Richie’s still so small body draped partially across Richard. Wrapped safely up in his brother’s already strong arms.

But, Richie was always one to pick everything apart. To ruminate, contemplate, and ponder. And, what Richard had asked earlier… Why had he asked it? What was he worried about _exactly_ …

“Richard?,” the small boy whispered.

“Mmm?”

“Do… Do **you** think you’re like Father?”

“…”

“…Richard?... Are you still awake?”

What came out of Richie’s brother’s mouth next was filled with as much sadness and desperation as vehemence.

“I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to hurt people just because I can. I don’t wanna be _used_ like a- like a fuckin’ tool- like a **weapon** , anymore!”

The little redheaded boy didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure exactly what that meant…

But, his older brother was continuing, in a voice so low, it was nearly inaudible, “I just… I wanna be like you… I wanna be more like… a person th-… a good person… Can’t I- can’t I be…”

“Like _ME_?,” the pretty little boy squeaked out in confusion, “That’s so- so weird! I’m not special. I’m a ‘mistake’. The ‘leftovers’, the- the ‘back-up’-“

The raven-haired older boy took in a sharp breath. His always slightly chilly palms pressed to the smaller boy’s cheeks to lift his face up to solemnly, gravely claim, and question, _“NO_. Richie, who said that to you? I don’t ever wanna hear you say that-”

But, Richie cut him off, continuing earnestly, “And, Richard, you ARE a good person-”

“No…”

“YES,” the little boy insisted, “And, you’re _not_ like- like  him. He can’t make you be HIM. No way. He can’t. That’s- That’s just- just dumb!”

The raven-haired boy laughed bitterly, “You don’t understand what’s going on here, Kid-”

“I don’t have to! HE would never care if I had a bad dream! And, if I almost cut my feet on some glass, -It wouldn’t matter if I broke it or not!-, he’d be mad about the _glass_ , not worried about me! You’re NOT the same! You’re Richard, and you’re My. Brother. And, you might be, uh, m-mean to some people, but you’re nice to me, and even to my best friend, and you don’t HAVE to be cause everyone else hates u-us cause we’re ‘too girly’, but you-”

“Hey! Fuck everyone else. You can be however you fuckin’ wanna be. Same goes for that kid you hang around with. If anybody fucks with you guys, you TELL me, and I’ll deal with it. Got it?”

“…Yeah, o-... okay… Richard, know what I think?”

“I always wanna know what you think. I value your fuckin’ opinion- your _observations_ , little dude.”

The redheaded boy blushed, and slapped at his slightly grinning brother’s shoulder, but told him, “I think that if you’re afraid of being-”

“I’m not afraid, I’m never afraid,” Richard answered back so instantaneously, so seriously, that it seemed programmed into his psyche to do so.

Richie ignored that (He knew his brother, and his weird quirks very well, after all.), and went on, “-of being like- like Father, then you _aren’t_ like him. Right? Cause Father would be happy to be… you know… like how he is… He _likes_ being… mean… So, if you don’t really **want** to be like that… then… then you’re different… Right, Richard?”

“…Maybe… I dunno…,” the raven-haired older boy sighed, “Maybe you’re ri-”

“I AM right,” the little redhead cut in, perhaps a tad haughtily, “I thought it all through, and took all ano- anoma-”

“Anomalies,” Richard schooled quietly.

“Anomalies,” the other boy nodded solemnly, “…I took all anomalies into consideration, so stat- statis-… No, don’t tell me! I know it!... Statistically!”

His older brother grinned down into his bright green eyes, “Good job, Kid. I think you’re gonna be smarter than me before we know it,” He ruffled his hair affectionately, “Always so proud of my little dude.”

_“Richard_ , quiiit!,” He was blushing as red as can be, “You’re embarrassing me- And, now, I forgot what I was saying!”

“Mmm… You were saying how sleepy you are, and how it’s time for bed-”

“H-Hey! Don’t trick me! That wasn’t it-”

“I’m not _tricking_ … Just… creatively retelling?...” his older brother answered more questioningly than anything, but, then, he continued in a serious, but heartfelt manner, “Look, Kid. I shouldn’t have mentioned any of this stuff… I don’t ever want you to worry about… anything… You’re still a kid. You shouldn’t have to-”

“Pfft… Whatever, Richard…,” the little redhead said once again, as he rolled his big green eyes in mock-exasperation.

But, still, he settled more comfortably against his brother. Lying more than halfway across him, now, like a loving, but possessive little kitty cat. Unconsciously, trying to share his own warmth with him, as the older boy felt, and could get so chilly, sometimes.

The redhead sighed in contentment at the feeling of his brother unthinkingly smoothing down, and pulling tangles out of his hair.

Richard was the only one that was like that (Affectionate, warm… like… like _family_.) toward him… Well, other than Jimmy, and Richard’s mom, who he could actually call “Mom”, too (She-She wanted him to!), and who he wished really WAS his mom. He didn’t have a “Mom”, after all. He had a “Mother”. And… and she… she had stopped liking him a long while ago…

Thank God he had Richard… even if it wasn’t all the time.

“You- * _Yaawwnn_ * You ARE good,” Richie asserted, again. Sleepily, yet, forcefully.

Richard didn’t answer right away, but hugged him closer. Rubbing his back soothingly. Lulling him ever closer to sleep as a parent would with their fussy, drowsy child.

You’d think he hadn’t even heard him.

But, as he was drifting off, the little redheaded boy heard his brother mumble, “Kid… Richie… If I’m good at all… It’s cause a’ you…”

♒♒♒♒♒♒

  


Simmons was in a state of shock. Quivering. Ever so slightly, but…

But…

Now, he truly wanted to cry.

It… It wasn’t just Grif and Jimmy… It wasn’t just them that he’d been close with. Been- Been at ease with. Been able to hug, and be hugged by (Him… who shied away from touch from everyone else.)…

Been able to trust.

There had been someone there before either of them…

Simmons wanted to reach into his very own head, and pull Richard (Richard… His brother?... His brother, Richard?) out, and shake the hell out of him!

And, then, hug him so close that he could never be lost, again. 

But, he couldn’t do that, could he?

Not physically.

How…

How had this happened?

HAD it happened?

Looking at it logically…

Hell, he wasn’t sure he even _believed_ in this weird supernatural kinda shit!

But, it sure seemed to believe in HIM.

However this could have happened, Simmons couldn’t get to it. Couldn’t break past the- the WALL that fucking stood between him and his brother, -who he seemed connected to in so many ways, who Richard had- had tried to ERASE, to take away from him-, being physically separate individuals, and- and-

Becoming whatever they were now.

But… was it really him? Or, was Simmons just completely insane? Just- Just fucking c…crazy?

A part of him was desperate for it to be him, because then… then at least, Richard wouldn’t be… simply gone…

Gone.

But, another part of him wanted to scream, and rage, and sob because- because-

_It was him- It was Richard- Somehow, it was definitely fucking him, and-and-_

It was his fault. It was all Simmons’ fault this had happened. He didn’t remember how, but-

He thought of waking Grif up.

He really did!

He’d tell him that one day in a near plea for him to believe that he’d _wanted_ to trust him even then. To turn to him in such a time of need.

To not ALWAYS hide behind the secrets, and the lies.

But, what- what could he even have said?

Maybe, something along the lines of:

_Grif, wake the fuck up! I just had some wild shit get… unblocked? Un… repressed? I don’t fucking know! But, I, somehow, remembered about my older brother, and- he, uh… Ya know, that side of me that I try to keep from being too obvious around everybody, -especially you-, well, I thought it was a more easily explainable mental illness, but, uh… I think… It might actually be my brother? I mean, I dunno how, but… I’m, uh, starting to remember him always having been… different… And, able to do… weird things that… I- and even HE… never really let ourselves believe in… C-Crazy, right? So, uhm, wanna… say hi?..._

Uggghh. Yeah, fucking right. He couldn’t say anything like that… But, then, what the hell could he say?

After all, it… it all did sound pretty… strange…

Obviously.

But- But, it _was_ true that they lived in a different time. With science having broken so many barriers… There’d been so MANY changes and discoveries…

Things that most people from earlier generations and centuries couldn’t ever have been able to readily accept as plausible. Let alone everyday normal.

And, if you believed in the “conspiracy theories” about all the years and years of genetic testing and engineering… Of cloning- of the myriads of successful hybridizations of differing species of animals… of underground studies on artificial and virtual intelligence (Look at Lopez and the Blue’s tank Sheila… and, wait… wasn’t the Blues supposed _leader_ even a-a ghost? Or, so they said… –A ghost that POSSESSED people-), and some people even said _people_ had been throw into the mix in all of this at these secret labs...

Hidden labs were a terrifying thing for a reason, after all. There were no checks and balances. No way to ensure any degree of humane treatment-

No peer review!

When you thought about how, despite so much of that being just a bunch of “conspiracy theories”, labs had been raided, burned to the ground (“Accidently”), and reports had leaked that- that basically all the shit they told you not to believe on the government-run networks was closer to fact than fiction…

And, then, of course, there were the new “discoveries” claimed in fields of study that many had previously treated as preposterous… and, yet, some of those same people turned out to have been secretly involved in them all this time? Riiiggght…

H-Heh… it, uh… made you think that if all that… if even a portion of any of that was true (And, a few very respected scientists had come out, and claimed it was- Before being silenced, made out to be kooks, and forcibly retired… Maybe, they hadn’t simply had breakdowns, after all?)… Well, um, it just made you wonder… wonder if maybe this unbelievable deal with Richard was… was somehow a possibility…

Or, maybe Simmons had finally really lost his fucking mind?

That could be a thing, too.

Simmons wanted to dig deeper into the _probabilities_ behind everything. He wanted to calculate-

But, honestly, he was just stalling.

He needed to try to talk to Richard… But, oh, he was so afraid… More afraid of Richard not being able to handle it, and trying to sweep it all away, then, he was afraid of it being true. At least, if it was true, he’d still have his brother- His brother who he remembered so clearly, now… who meant so much to him… no wonder he’d never been able to take medications to try to suppress the “voice in his head”, or his “Alter” (Although, technically, in many ways, Richard DID function as his Alter…)-

Somewhere deep inside, repressed or blocked or no, he had _known_. When he thought of his terrible fear, -despite his annoyed or infuriated moments of telling, and even wanting Richard to “fuck off”-, whenever he’d thought he might actually be gone… The aching pain, and sense of loss… the dread, anxiety, and deep distress…

Yes. Some part of him had known. Had always known. Even if it’d been so, so deep in his subconscious.

Richard was _Richard_ , and he’d saved him (Huh?), and stayed with him through everything-

Even when he’d wanted nothing more than to give up. To be done. When he had no will left to go on, because-

Oh no.

It came at him.

Another memory.

Un-blocked. Once again, laid bare.

Cause, you see, as said before (But some things DO have to be reiterated because they are just THAT important.), the thing about starting to remember things was that it didn’t just happen at a pace you could control or be prepared for. Sometimes, one unblocked memory led to another to another…

Whether you were ready or not.

What hit him next (And, he said hit because it DID feel like being hit. Slapped right across the face with it.)…

He wasn’t prepared, but, then, maybe he never could’ve been… To have so many things revealed about his and Richard’s pasts (So many more questions, now, on the table about it, too.), about _what_ exactly had happened to make them go from their secret little family of three, to just the two of them enlisted in the military… hiding away because Richard had-

Simmons had never known exactly what Richard had done. (Despite the flashes, and the sensory memory of BourbonandBloodBourbonandBlood.) Or, of what had driven him to finally do it-

Until, that night.

When the pieces had started to come together, and-

Simmons _remembered_.

It was HIS memory. Not Richard’s. But, what Simmons, himself, had seen, and heard, and ascertained.

And, that Richard in his rage and sorrow, his incredible bloodlust, and need for revenge, had not seen or heard or, most importantly, _understood_ in as clear a fashion as Simmons had.

Or really in any fashion at all.

Then, unaware of the unbelievably important information he was locking away… Richard had hidden it, blocked it, repressed it. Even, most of the time from himself. Though that never seemed to last.

He was always the emotional, act first, regret it later type, while Simmons, although he could be pretty emotional, too, was the exact opposite.

But, Richard’s blocks were truly breaking down, now. Crumbling bit by bit right before Simmons’ very eyes.

And, Richard wasn’t even aware of it.

More Secrets to be revealed-

_But, Hope. Hidden Hope._

From that one night…

_TheBloodTheBlood_

Locked away.

_So. Much. Blood._

Until, now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insanely Long End Notes Incoming!
> 
> Continued from Notes: Richard’s & Simmons’ case is meant to symbolize the truly confounding cases that I have come across where current scientific methods cannot explain what is going on. This is where many people start talking about possession. Mostly of the demonic kind, but there are those that believe that some benevolent lost spirits/souls can become attracted and attached to particular people. There’s, also, some belief out there about twin or dual souls or spirits existing within the same physical body. I’m not saying that’s exactly what’s happening here, but simply trying to give a bit of further insight without just straight out spoiling everything. (Though the clues ARE there within the chapters and the notes. Some people will likely piece together most things way before the story comes to its completion.)
> 
> You do now see, that in the case of Simmons and Richard, something more is going on. Not just Richard’s, but, also, Simmons’ origins have now been brought into question. They, additionally, seem to have had, or have, a metaphysical, extremely deep bond or connection that existed even before the accident/incident. Simmons _heard_ Richard’s thoughts, -they actually woke him up-, from all the way over in his room. And, Richard seems capable, or to have been capable, of things that a regular human being would not be. We have not yet really seen what Simmons may be capable of, if anything.
> 
> Remember, we’re dealing with a timeline set hundreds of years into the future, (Not to mention the “possible supernatural elements” tag thrown into the mix here, which I should probably change to simply “Supernatural Elements”… What do you all think?) so the realm of possibilities has widened.
> 
> Also, you truly blatantly see for one of the first times that this current POV character (Simmons) is recalling all this from a time in the future where he and Grif already have a daughter together, and “things had changed so very much for all of them”, though “mostly for the better”. There’ve been mentions of “And, he’d know that later”, and so on, but this unequivocally shows that they are all telling us this story from another time. That’s part of why having characters like Jimmy, Kira, and the doctor that was at the hospital the night of the “incident” with Simmons and Richard, etc. is so invaluable to a story like this. They can fill in parts of the story, or characterizations about our main characters that these guys would never speak about. We already know Jimmy has filled in a lot of the blanks about what was going on w/the Simmons boys, and I’m looking forward to how Kira fills in the blanks about things that Grif and Kai went through, and how Grif handled things, that the two of them would never _dream_ of divulging.
> 
> Another point I wanted to mention, just in passing, is that if you’re ever wondering how it is that these young, growing boys smell so nice (Simmons: Coconut and lime, Jimmy: Cinnamon, and just “Christmas-sy”, & Richard: Spearmint, Expensive leather- And the air before a lightning storm?) rather than all “teenage boy” smelling, it’s really just a matter (Mostly anyway…), again, of the surroundings, and community they’re growing up in. They are always expected to uphold a certain standard. This really is how it is in particular communities. If they need to shower twice a day while going through all those wild hormonal changes, then, they are expected to do that. (I knew a guy that showered _three_ times a day back in the day.) Not to mention the normal teenage diet of almost constant junk food is not acceptable.
> 
> Also, that piercing, searching look that Richard gives to his old girlfriend in this chapter? If you recall, he looked at Jimmy the exact same way in chapter 15 when Jimmy was kinda putting forth his case on why they could or should be together. But, the difference was that with Jimmy, Richard actually ended up finding what he was looking for.
> 
> Lastly, a personal update: I had to cut the chapter so I could get this out. There’s been so much going on right now. Not good stuff. Don’t ever move to a small town, guys. It isn’t pretty when they don’t like “people like you”, and turn on you. I’ve been dealing with some bad shit for a while, now. But, it does look like it’s turning around, thank God, and moving closer toward a much needed agreeable resolution. It’s not all the way dealt with as of yet, though, and if it takes a nasty turn, expect to hear more from me regarding it. Please wish me well, and good luck with all this. Between this, and the car issues, and many other previous continuing issues… uggghhh… It’s been tough. Just trying to continue to figure it all out, and have some faith. ☺ Thanks to those sticking with this story. I hope you are all well, and I wish you a Very Belated Happy New Year!  
> ♡–MissyAnn❀


	20. The Missing & the Dead: Hope Amidst the Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You take him from me, I take away your EVERYTHING, Senior… But, don’t worry. James is just… resting… for now… But, hey! Never mind about _your_ boyfriend. I just thought of a fuckin’ _fun_ idea,” Simmons could _feel_ their lips turn up. Could feel Richard SMILING at Father like an absolute fucking lunatic, “A little game we can play. You like GAMES, right? So let’s play pretend. How’s about I just sit here on your knee, huh?... And, let’s pretend that I really WAS the _good_ son _**allll**_ along… An’ then- This is the best- my _FAVORITE_ part!- then, I’ll. Just. Watch. You. Die… Cool, right?”
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5-5-17 *ADDED NOTE*: I swear I'm coming back really soon. Finals, and this one particular late-start class have just been kicking my ass! (But this IS the last week for me in the semester so thank Christ for that!) The next couple chapters are nearly done, though, and, of course, things are starting to get more crazy, and more things are about to be revealed in the story.
> 
> ********
> 
>   
> Chapter Tags: Violence, Blood, Mentions of Possible Death, Hope, Hypocrites, Heartless Cruelty for the sake of the supposed greater good, Cross-dressing, Drag-phobia, Mad Science, Is that who you think it is?... May-be…, For fuck’s sake, don’t piss Richard off!, Richard may as well be f’n deaf, Simmons is good people (Ha! Like, _literally_ in this AU.) all wrapped up in a pretty neurotic nerd exterior, Grif can sleep through nearly anything
> 
> Holy Shit. There’s been something seriously creepy going on with some of the kids in this compound…
> 
> Character Family Breakdowns For This Chapter at the end of End Notes
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

_He wasn’t prepared, but, then, maybe he never could’ve been… To have so many things revealed about his and Richard’s pasts (So many more questions, now, on the table about it all, too.), about what exactly had happened to make them go from their secret little family of three, to just the two of them enlisted in the military… hiding away because Richard had-_

_Simmons had never known **exactly** what Richard had done. (Despite the flashes, and the sensory memory of BourbonandBloodBourbonandBlood.) Or, of what had driven him to finally do it- _

_Until, that night._

_When the pieces had, finally, started to come together, and-_

_Simmons **remembered**..._

  
Simmons Residence  
Currently In Residence:  
Richie “Simmons” the III - 17 years old  
“Richard” Simmons Junior– Currently: 23 years old (Mentally), 17 years old (Physically)  
Richard Simmons “Senior” – “Old Man” as Richard or “Rich” as others call him  
James Senior - Jimmy’s father & Senior’s oldest crony & confidante (Yes, Jimmy’s a Junior, too. Weird…) 

  


Simmons sat on the cold wooden floorboards in his room.

Silent.

Listening.

Not to Richard.

No. Not to him.

But, to the wind rustling through the dying leaves on the trees outside his window.

To the creaks and groans of the too large, too empty house as it settled…

Otherwise…

It was quiet. So quiet.

He took a deep shaky breath…

And, tried again.

“Richard?... Talk to me, okay? P-Please?”

But, Richard didn’t say a word… He just wasn’t responding anymore. He hadn’t been for hours and hours. He WAS there. Simmons had felt him… go… somewhere _multiple_ times earlier, but he’d… come back to him, -if that’s what you’d call it-, a while ago.

So exhausted.

So empty and silent.

So defeated.

After trying over and over to talk to him, to tell him… to ask him… _plead_ with him to tell him that it… it couldn’t be true, right? W-Why was he so sure that it was? Was there something Father had said or shown to _Richard_ in particular that he was hiding from Simmons? What had **they** -

Why did Richard believe them?

Richard… who had clung desperately to him during the first day, and into the second… Mindlessly calling him “Richie” rather than “Simmons”... seeming to disappear for long stretches only to suddenly be back and babbling, “Richie, Richie! They HAVE to be lying, but I can’t find him, I can’t find him! Not even his sig!-”

Simmons had no clue what that even meant.

“-I can’t- I can’t- Wait! Maybe-Maybe-” and, then, he’d be gone, again.

But, now, Richard was… was…

Well, by this point, he had just completely shut down.

And, as for Simmons…

Regardless of all the questions that endlessly, brutally bounced about in his head with no soft place to land…

He was still too shocked to cry, to mourn… He couldn’t- He couldn’t _believe_ it. He couldn’t-

And, as he sat in his too cold room, he realized two things.

He wasn’t simply having a hard time believing that… that Jimmy was-was d-dead due to being in a perfectly understandable state of shock.

Of course, that WOULD be a reasonable conclusion for anyone to make, but-

No.

This went deeper than that.

Things simply didn’t add up.

It made no **logical** sense! Seriously, _nothing_ added up! And, the way everything had gone down… It had all seemed so suspicious, even as it was happening…

 

Outside Jimmy’s Residence: Two Days Earlier

  
Even though Jimmy was going to be taken away in an ambulance, he wasn’t in too bad a shape.

Like, at all.

There wasn’t even any sorta huge rush like there had apparently been with prior incidents. They were just going to take him in for overnight observation while any residual toxins worked their way out of his system.

Jimmy was even sitting on the gurney at the back of the van, rather than laying down on it, with Richard (And, Simmons. Cause he was _actually_ being allowed to be there for once. Richard obviously just figuring he’d block it from him later as he did with so many other “unpleasant” things.) standing in front of him.

Richard had their hands placed on either side of the raven-haired boy (Young man really, but whatever.), as if he was caging him in. Almost appearing to be instinctively attempting to shield the lovely, but trembling Jimmy from any eyes around them that would dare to look upon him with anything but kindness.

But, to be frank, it did seem that at the moment, the only ones around other than them were four men… Their fathers and the two ambulance drivers… or were they EMT’s?... Well, whoever they were, it appeared that the four of them were paying them no heed, but instead strangely enough, they were talking… talking to each other a ways away.

Just barely out of eyesight and earshot.

Huh… And, you know something kinda weird? That Simmons noticed, but Richard was too busy with the other boy to realize?

It wasn’t even a regular ambulance that Jimmy was going to be taken to the hospital in. But, instead, it was one of the compound’s medi-evacs…

But, um… anyway… so Senior, and Jimmy’s dad were there, and…

And… was Jimmy’s dad actually _arguing_ with Father? Quietly, but still seemingly quite **vehemently** … huh… Okay, now that was… _beyond_ strange.

Honestly… the whole atmosphere felt… peculiar. Oppressive and heavy.

Right when Simmons was about to voice his discomfort with… just _all_ of this-

Richard wrapped their arms around Jimmy. He pulled the shorter boy right up off the gurney, onto his feet, and up against them. Pressing his dark head to their chest. Running slender fingers through long strands of raven hair that seemed to take forever to grow anymore. Now that he could grow it down to the middle of his back if he wanted to due to being “housebound” it didn’t seem to want to grow more than a few inches past his shoulders.

But, Simmons wasn’t really concerned with that at the moment. He was more caught off guard by how _little_ Jimmy was. Not just height-wise. He’d actually grown some over the years. He was almost, no less than an inch off, as tall, -Or short, depending on how you look at it-, as his 5’ 6 ½” father. (Apparently, half-inches counted a lot to shortys.) Of course, compared to Simmons’ (And, Richard’s) now 6’ even… this was quite small.

But, that wasn’t what caught Simmons’ attention right then. No. He was more than used to that.

It was how _thin_ the guy was. He’d always been super slender, even more so than them, but, now, he seemed almost… fragile.

Simmons could really feel how much it worried and frightened Richard. Hell, his paranoia about it all was getting Simmons a little freaked out, too!

And, that’s when Richard murmured a little shakily in Jimmy’s ear, as he held him tighter, “Dammit, Jimmy, why? Why’d you do this, again? You fucking _promised_ me you'd stop- that you wouldn’t pull any more bullshit.”

And, Simmons instantly understood that Richard was so upset, just _sick_ inside, because he believed Jimmy had taken tranqs, again, after promising not to and…

This wasn’t the first time the smaller boy had done it, and they… they counteracted with Jimmy’s… _seizure meds_?

-Holy fuck-

Wow. Richard wasn’t normally so… open… with such things.

But, sometimes, he really seemed to need Simmons’ moral support or something.

And, AS the elected moral support who was _worlds_ more rational in times of stress (EVEN with his own anxiety issues, and that should say a LOT.), Simmons was able to observe and ruminate over things in a much more coherent manner than Richard was remotely capable of.

And, thus, the truth of it was, when Richard sat Jimmy back down on the gurney, absently brushed his so dark hair back behind his ear, and just… _looked_ into his eyes, Simmons could _swear_ Jimmy was trying to convey something to them, and Simmons had to admit that he really thought that something was fishy as all hell with all this, AND… bottom line?

He thought Jimmy really hadn’t done anything wrong, at all, this time.

Richard should’ve recognized all this, as well, and he likely would soon. He was always able to think more clearly and rationally when he wasn’t fueled off unreliable strong emotion.

He was always so damn _quick_ to get upset, while Simmons, although he wouldn’t deny he could be a fucking emotional basketcase, at particular times, still liked to analyze a situation before coming to a final verdict.

Richard’s capricious emotional state could be SUCH a pain in Simmons’ a-

Jimmy distracted Simmons from his thoughts and caught his full attention, again, when he mouthed, and… signed?... in reply to Richard.

And, although, Simmons still didn’t know sign language that well himself for some reason (Maybe, cause it wouldn’t be very explainable during the times that things were extra bad, and Richard blanked Jimmy from him, again.), he was able to understand what was being said through Richard’s internal translation.

Jimmy’s hands and slender fingers trembled slightly, but not enough to make the words they spelled out (Using bigger gestures and more emphatic movements to empathize things.) undecipherable, ‘Richard, **listen** to me. I HAVE stopped. I really didn’t-‘

But, Richard cut him off, speaking softly but firmly, “I don’t care if you ‘ _didn’t mean to_ ’! This is your fucking life, Raven! It’s not a **game**.”

And, the look of frustration on the poor kid’s face. Simmons seriously felt bad for the poor guy. That so **obviously** wasn’t what he’d been trying to say.

Simmons decided he needed to speak up here.

I mean, this was all just fucking weird. The “EMT’s” and their fathers were still completely absorbed with quietly discussing something. When in all reality shouldn’t they be taking Jimmy to the hospital already? If it was supposed to be serious enough to keep him overnight? Even if it WAS just for observation?

It didn’t make any sense.

Jimmy was saying he hadn’t taken anything. And, he seemed shaky, sure. But, no more than he got nowadays when he was nervous or tired or overwhelmed.

And, why did Jimmy’s dad keep getting so _pissed_ at their father? It was odd to say the least. He **loved** their father. They were almost like brothers. Nearly always together.

And, another thin-!…

~~~~~~~~

Simmons wasn’t sure what that “other thing” had been. Because, suddenly, everything… flickered… and changed.

And, now, Richard had their hands buried deep into Jimmy’s hair, their forehead pressed to the smaller boy’s own.

Huh?

“-love you, sweet baby,” Richard was in the middle of whispering, “You be a good boy for me until I can get to you, alright? I guess I can’t go with you cause… Shit. That asshole’s right. You know I fuck up the electronics sometimes if I get… Anyway… we’ll be right behind you, okay?”

When he pulled back to see the smaller boy nod, Simmons could see how swollen Jimmy’s lips suddenly looked. He could hear how he panted slightly. His eyes so wide. Expression so soft…

Oh… Ohhh… um… Richard must’ve pushed Simmons back so he could k-kiss Jimmy before they took off. (Apparently, pretty intensely as he seemed to be an intense kinda guy when it came to this kinda _embarrassing_ as all crap stuff.)

Richard took hold of Jimmy’s right hand. Brought it up to press to their cheek.

But, not before their eyes alighted on, and he gently brushed their finger over, the golden band gleaming on the raven-haired boy’s right ring finger, “I’m not mad, alright? I don’t want you to worry about anything… And, Simmons isn’t mad, either. Right, Kid?”

Oh-hoho, and, the second Richard mentioned him… It was really kinda hilarious. Jimmy’s expression changed in an instant.

He looked SO startled.

And, Simmons had a moment to realize that it seemed Richard had been right when he’d told him that if you _really_ knew someone, you often didn’t have to exchange a ton of audible words in order to absolutely know what was going on in their head. Or, at least to get the overall gist of it.

Cause Simmons could just see and understand from the LOOK on Jimmy’s face that he was thinking and basically telegraphing to Richard, ‘Did you _seriously_ just **make out** with me not only with our fathers a handful of yards away, but with  Simmons here WITH us, you freaking wacko?!... Like seriously?!’

…But, then, Jimmy obviously got it straight, that Richard had simply pulled Simmons back much quicker than usual, and he snorted a little in amusement at himself for jumping to such an insanely unlikely conclusion, as he rested his head against their chest.

Simmons patted his back a little. He’d gotten a… a tad more awkward about showing affection over the years, though Jimmy was still the only one at this point other than Richard that he felt any real level of comfort around.

“Of fucking _course_ I’m not m-mad,” Simmons assured him with only minimal stammering, “I know you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll-I’ll talk to him, alright?”

And, Jimmy hugged Simmons gratefully, which caused Richard to growl playfully, “You brats are always gangin’ up on me.”

“Of course,” Simmons teased haughtily, on more steady ground with the banter, “Those of us with a _superior_ intellect have to stick together.”

And, always quick to throw a mini-fit, Richard was instantly complaining bitchily, “Hey! Screw you, Kid! I can outscore **both** you lil’ bitches any day a’ the week! You just don’t know what I’m capable of. Ask Jimmy. HE knows!”

Jimmy snorted, and gave him a meaningful look that Simmons _really_ didn’t want to even attempt to decipher.

“Whoa-Whoa…” Richard tried to backtrack, “I… didn’t mean it that way… I meant like scoring… testing… like _IQ_ scorin’ n’ shit.”

Simmons hummed disbelievingly.

And, Jimmy, too thin, but warm and _alive_ in their arms, snuggled closer into them and just laughed.  


✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

  
  
He’d laughed…

Laughed.

He’d been so… so _okay_. So totally _**alright**_.

And, then, he’d supposedly… on the way…

He supposedly hadn’t even made it… made it to the hospital…

It wasn’t that Simmons didn’t know these things could happen, but… it was just so freaking _arcaic_. In a time where technology and medicine had come so far, how did… how did it make any sense? Especially when you took into account how suspicious it had all come across.

Simmons really urgently wished that he could talk to Richard- talk it- work it all out with him.

Surely, together, they could figure out what was really going on. If only Richard would LISTEN to him. Hear him out about how things had appeared to _him_.

Simmons opened his mouth to once again attempt to get Richard’s attention-

And, that’s when he heard it.

  
*SLAM*

Simmons’ entire body seemed to jolt in sudden fear.

His jaw snapping painfully shut.

_Shit! Shit! Quiet, quiet… have to be quiet_…

Because that- that had to be-

  
Yes. That had to be the liquor cabinet in Father’s office. It always took such a beating…

But… if-if that _was_ the-the c-cabinet in Father’s office…. Then, that meant…

  
“Jus’ sit the hell down n’ have a drink, James.”

  
Oh.

Oh, my God.

 

“Ya need ta’ keep it t’gether.”

  
It was them.

Senior and Jimmy’s dad, James.

They’d come back home…

They- They’d-

Oh, crap…

Uh… Dammit!… Oh, he had a BAD feeling about this. A bad, bad, such a freaking _bad_ feeling.

On top of everything else… Simmons had to, er… admit something. He had a, um, kinda scary (If-If he got… caught…) secret.

Well, not from Richard. Not anymore. But-

Well… the truth was that, uh…

U-Um…

He could hear everything that went on in Father’s office through a particular vent in his room!

 

He let out a shaky exhale.

It was so cliché. He knew that. But, Father had wanted the houses in the compound to all be a particular way. Modern, but with a certain supposedly “olden days charm” (Though, sometimes, with the very seemingly specific overuse of wooden flooring, walls, and furniture, Simmons thought there might be more to it than that. Though, he couldn’t tell you what that was exactly.).

Anyway, so even though the heating system, along with many other systems in the compound’s homes, may have been voice-activated and “maintained” by a computerized virtual intelligence of some sort (That not even Richard, who normally encouraged such things, would allow Simmons to mess with too much no matter how curious the redhead was.), the vents were still pretty old school.

No heated floors for poor Simmons’ and Richard’s (Or- Or… Jimmy’s…) always so chilly feet.

But, that did seem a small price to pay whenever Simmons was able to discover information, -that Richard _sometimes_ even let him remember-, that he was never meant to have…

He moved closer to the vent. Carefully. As though afraid to be caught.

Although they were all the way downstairs…

Their voices a little tinny through the piping. Hollow and echo-y…

And, carefully, so carefully, Simmons laid down flat on his belly. Rested his head on his arms right overtop the vent...

  
And-

He closed his tired, so gritty from lack of sleep eyes and focused.

And, he listened...

  
  
“-don’t feel comfortable with this, _at all_. No matter what they did before, or _what_ you’re needing him to do, now. This wasn’t the way-,” Jimmy’s dad, James, sounded edgy, and so fed up.

 

But, there was still that underlying caution to his tone that anyone that actually knew Senior (Well, most anyone. Other than Richard normally.) would oftentimes find themselves using with the man.

 

“James, ya know nothin’ interferes!,” Senior spoke with authority. Like he was right- He was _always_ right, and that was just the way of it, “Measures had ta’ be taken. That’s the way of it-” Wow. Called it, “ -an’ ya knew that when ya joined. Maybe, if on toppa it all, your boy hadn’t turned inta a lil cross-dressin’ **freak** -”

“Rich, that’s… just...” He could hardly be heard. He sounded so _ashamed_ … But still, he managed, “Just fuckin’ enough with that already. That was years ago, and how long… how long have those boys been together now, anyway? An’ with you _allowin’_ it just to get your way? That other… other stuff from before doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on right now so let’s just-”

“What?! You gonna try ta’ deny it?! I _seen_ the boy all gussied up with m’ own two eyes!”

  
Holy SHIT! They _knew_ about that! Even HE had only found out within the past couple years…

Simmons was currently too appalled by the idea that such dangerously judgmental people in such high positions of power knew such risky secrets to even notice the tenses that were being used.

He thought Richard and Jimmy kept that really under wraps, and that it was something Jimmy only did rarely when the two of them were alone. Apparently, Richard had had to learn how to, um… put on the- the, uh, m-make-up stuff for Jimmy because of the tremors in his hands, now, but…

Simmons had actually seen Jimmy, uh, ya know… dressed up a few times before. And, oh boy, the first time? He’d gotten so freaking red and SO uncomfortable.

And, Jimmy’d just bowed his head. Nodded a little to himself, and it looked like tried not to _cry_.

But, he seemed like he wasn’t surprised. He obviously didn’t think anyone but Richard would ever **really** accept him. Not even Simmons-

But, that hadn’t been the case! It was just-just-

“It’s-It’s weird, Jimmy!,” Simmons had burst out to Richard’s groan of disbelief. But before he could chastise him, Simmons continued to blurt, “Weird cause, uh-uh… you, uh… YouLookSoPrettyLikeAFreakingPrettyGIRL!”

And, Richard had barked out a laugh.

Jimmy had blinked away tears that there’d been no cause to shed, and covered his shimmery mauve slicked lips with his only so slightly trembly hand to hide his smile.

But, Simmons had still heard him giggle, and that’s when he’d felt Richard completely relax.

And, it hadn’t been a problem between the three of them, at all, after that. Though Jimmy and Richard really were pretty private about that kind of stuff. (Not surprising considering their surroundings.)

Simmons could tell they appreciated not _having_ to hide it from him, though.

But… he was damn sure that however their **Fathers** had found out had not culminated into such a sweet and neat little story. In fact, he’d bet-

  
Two heavy slams boomed through the vent and resonated right into Simmons’ _ear canal_.

It’d likely been Senior slamming his fist onto his large mahogany desk to make a point/be an aggressive asshole as he shouted, “You were _there_ , James! You saw it, too!”

Oh, but now, he’d apparently lit a fire under the smaller man, and Jimmy’s father furiously replied- just _spit_ the words right out, “Yeah! And, you went too damn far! An’ that’s the understatement of the freaking decade! I’m still so fucking _pissed off_ about all that! Jimmy’s not just anyone, Rich! He’s one of The Blood just as much as your boys are-”

  
Simmons completely forgot about the fact that he **wasn’t** supposed to be hearing any of this, and he damn well knew it.

His nose wrinkled in confusion without him even noticing it.

Because, what… the fuck… did that mean? “The… Blood”? What kinda ridiculous crap was THIS now?… Simmons knew they were obsessed with bloodlines in the compound, but… And, another thing! He, literally, just realized it-

Why were they- The way they were talking about Jimmy in the present tense… Not at all like he was actually… gone…

The redhead’s mind was reeling, even as it gathered, contemplated, and tabulated all new, and so precious, incoming information.

Even as another part of him was already _screaming_ internally, ‘I knew it! I fucking KNEW it!’

But, while he may have been starting to get a clearer, yet, simultaneously darker, picture of what _they_ were truly capable of-

Richard was still unfortunately MIA, so to speak…

Just so… so distant.

Simmons would never be able to explain how unbelievably terrible and frustrating it was to basically be without him at such a time.

To have him _there_ , but so unreachable.

And, on TOP of that, there was this- this… o-other thing. It was almost like there was a very soft buzzing, or-or a strange… undecipherable whispering coming from Richard that Simmons couldn’t place or understand.

Years later, he’d come to realize that despite how unsettling it had been, it’d truly been like the calm before the storm…

A near emptiness blanketing Richard’s thoughts as he spiraled deeper n’ deeper down into the darkest recesses of his mind that he had tried so hard to hide from. A blankness enveloping him as he slipped further n’ further away from sanity…

And, there was nothing, _nothing_ Simmons could do to help or to reach him within this moment…

Nothing he could do…

Except-

Except to listen to their father and Jimmy’s father despite knowing the dangers involved in ever being caught doing such a thing.

To listen, and-

And, to hope. Hope that his initial suspicions bore fruit. Hope that he really was fucking **right**.

 

“-no matter about all that garbage,” James was continuing, “he’s still _my SON_. I thought that’d mean something to you, and you wouldn’t- I never would’ve let you- And, now, here you are pulling this SHIT-”

Senior _roared_ , “That damn girly-boy a yours almost ruint everythin’, dammit! Multiple times! Yer lucky I don’t hold _you_ \- your whole fuckin’ family- responsible! Be GRATEFUL for The Mercy, you motherfucker! Fer the sake a yer boy at the very least-”  
  
  
Simmons hardly held back the whimper. Hearing his father lose it like that… It was always so terrifying… He couldn’t even really completely comprehend Father’s words when he got all… shouty.  
  
  
But, as for James… he didn’t actually sound _frightened_ , at the moment, but more… dejected, “Ah- I… Dammit… Well, he won’t be around here to distract your precious devil boy, anyhow-”

  
Whoa… If Simmons hadn’t already been clueing in to the fact that this was all some bullshit ploy, he, honestly, wouldn’t even have been able to grasp the LEVEL of heartlessness it would take… For a father to say such a thing about his son who had supposedly… passed… VERY recently.

But, Jimmy’s father was continuing, and, all at once, he sounded _infuriated_ , “So, maybe, now, you can just shut up about my boy- You think you can do that, Rich? Are you capable of shutting the hell up with the trash talking so we can get back to talking fuckin’ numbers here? We only got ‘til Friday n’ thanks to you and your sick games, your devil boy’s gonna be outta commission for the whole planning stage, if not the whole damn-”

“Richard ain’t no devil, dammit! He’s _The Future-_ ,” Senior furiously insisted.

Uhhh…What the actual hell did THAT mean, now? Seriously? Father sounded like a freaking maniac.

  
“Sure, sure, I know. Heard it a million times,” An incredibly longsuffering sigh from a much smaller statured man. You could practically _hear_ him rolling his eyes, “But, ‘The Future’s’ got it bad for my boy, an’ doing this… It was a bad idea, Rich. If he ever finds… He’ll turn on us. Just you wait. An’ don’t ever… don’t ever forget what he did to Sandra after... _f-fuck_ … after what happened to the- to the boys at the.. the ‘camp’…”

  
Simmons cocked his head like a curious little bird. Even as his eyes went slightly glassy.

“Camp,” he mouthed silently to himself.

And, Richard truly was really very far gone, because any other time he surely would’ve stepped in at this point.

But, he didn’t.

So, Simmons heard when, in a change of mood swift enough to give you whiplash-

  
Senior LAUGHED loud and heartily, “Yeah. Damn boy’s an animal, sometimes! Thas when I **knew** , when I was _certain_ Richard really was with Richie. Thought fer _sure_ Em… his mama… really had ‘em, -I mean, she took… took… But, the way he brought ol’ Sandy down- Ha! Pure Richard. Like a damn leopard takin’ out a big ol’ antelope. So fuckin’ _fast_ an’ efficient. Was a thing a beauty. I thought ta’ myself, ‘Dammit, I knew it! Thas’ my boy, a’right. There that beautiful bastard is!’”

 

An uncomfortable groan from Jimmy’s father.

  
“An’, a’right, I suppose, some could say he went ‘a lil’ too far’ an’ maybe, since I su’pected-, I shoulda _warned_ Sandra ‘bout what Richard’s capable of… but, she DID overstep protocol with the boys. Don’t go forgettin’, now! She **knew** the boys all weren’t natural. She knew better than ta’ treat 'em the same as jus’ any a the rest. It was HER orders that caused the damage ta’ yer boy, ya know.”

  
Somehow, although Simmons wasn’t a hundred percent sure what the hell he was talking about (As even in this time of Richard allowing him to still remember Jimmy, and remember him having been in their lives all this time, Richard still had him thinking Jimmy was just sick, now. Not that he’d been purposefully physically damaged, but that he’d gotten sick as people do.)- somehow, he doubted that ‘S-Sandra’- (Why did that name give him the chills?) he doubted that she had given whatever orders he was talking about. He doubted that very much. Those kinds of orders went through his FATHER first and foremost. And, Jimmy’s father surely knew that, too.

Maybe, he couldn’t bear to accept it.

  
“Course, Richard took care a her fer all that, though, huh? One less mess ta’ deal with- Heh! I mean, but it WAS a hell of a mess! An’ more than jus’ cause a’… ya know. It was jus’ so damn _sloppy_ a’ the boy. Didn’t even think ta’ do recon on the room fer any audio or visual- An’, if _anyone_ oughta know better it’s that boy… But… hell, guess he wasn’t thinkin’ at the time, but I gotta believe he had ta’ figure I’d know it was him. An’ not jus’ cause him n’ Richie started _talkin’_ to each other- But, cause… I mean, c’mon. E’rybody knows that lil pussy Richie never coulda been man enough ta’ just instantly take down sum bitch over twice his size on his own with his bare hands, an’ keep on smashin’ n _smashin’_ her head on the-”

 

Oh-Oh-Oh God-Oh God-

 

“Alright, Rich! ENOUGH! Shut up already! You know I don’t wanna hear about any a’ that! Just stop- You- I can’t-,” the smaller man let out an audible breath, as though attempting to calm himself, “Can you focus? Can you fucking LISTEN? My POINT was what the hell kinda leverage you got on Richard now without my boy, huh?”

Silence.

 

A silence that found Richie- NO! NO! _Simmons!_ \- Simmons on the verge of spiraling… spiraling down into memories too dark, too horrifying to be faced alone…

But, then-

 

Senior’s voice was almost sly, “…There’s always Richie.”

 

And, at those words, Simmons suddenly forgot all about camps, and the-the smell of vomit, and the blood- the blood dripping off their hands, down their fingertips… Smearing, smearing onto a smaller, raven-haired boy’s too pale flesh as they tried to rouse him from a drug-induced stupor…

 

“Dammit! You never change…” James sounded almost disbelieving, “Your _own_ son, now?”

“ _Richard’s_ my son-”

“An’ apparently he’s different from Richie? More a part of The Blood, a part of your ‘family’, than Richie? Even with where and with WHO Richie comes from? Even though they both- They both weren’t born ‘naturally’ as you like to call it- so if it’s ‘not the same’ as having a natural-born child with Richie, in a way, even with the ‘differences’, it oughta be ‘not the same’ with Richard, too. But, no. It’s all so ‘different’ to you, isn’t it?”

“Thas right. It IS different. An’, you fuckin’ KNOW how n’ why it’s different, an’ why it’s _better_ , doncha, James?”

“I…”

“But, fuck all this here talk about that worthless, diluted Richie…”

  
GEEZ. Thanks a freaking lot!

‘Diluted,’ he says!

Worthless and _Diluted_.

Worthless was a common one for Simmons to be called by Father, but **Diluted**?

Yeah, that was a new one.

Always nice to be given a new fuckin’ nickname, right?

Whatever.

To be frank, normally Simmons would really be hurt by his father’s cold, thoughtless words (Although he _really_ should be more than used to it by now.), but this time he couldn’t focus on it enough to get worked up. He was, honestly, too distracted by how dark and cruel his father’s voice had turned.

  
“Know what I’m wonderin’?… How is it YOU can talk ‘bout it ‘not bein’ the same’ as havin’ a natural son when it comes ta’ my boy Richard? Huh, James? How is that?”

“That wasn’t what I was- I wasn’t **saying** that, you asshole! Holy shit, you really don’t listen!”

“Now, how can _you_ say such a thing?,” Senior went on in mock thoughtfulness, as if James hadn’t even spoken, “Thas what I wanna know. Fuck’s wrong with you?,” Said almost conversationally, “Ya’ll forgot ‘bout yer _own_ boy? An’, here I allowed you a GIFT outta the _kindness_ a my heart-”

  
Despite his fear and confusion, Simmons hardly held back from snorting aloud.

“Kindness”. _Riigggttt_.

Not likely. Everything came at a price with his father.

  
“Somethin’ even yer anointed wife couldn’t give after havin’ your natural girl, Jackie, messed ‘er up. But, who took care a it fer you? Huh? Who assured you that you’d have an’ heir? Even if he did turn out ta’ be a lil’ pansy-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Now, lemme think… HmHmHm… Should I pull _his_ pa’ticular file?”

  
F-File? They had FILES… This was taking a hell of a turn- Oh, what Simmons would _give_ to get his hands on such a thing! His fingers actually twitched with the desire. And, he’d bet **anything** they had a totally subpar filing system, and-

  
“Rich,” the small raven-haired man was saying warningly.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot!,” All at once Senior sounded too gregarious for comfort, “Ya’ll teamed up with Em back in the day n’ _pulled the boys’ master files_ behind my back n’ destroyed ‘em. But, don’t you worry! Ya know me n’ my photographic memory! I’ll jus’ summarize the main points fer ya! Lessee here…”

  
Honestly? Senior, when he talked like this? Could be the scariest version of himself you’d see. Simmons, - adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins and too caught up in the moment to remember about files that likely desperately needed to be reorganized into a more user-friendly and logical manner or even to recall a particular man’s increasingly obvious, even if unwanted, role in something that seemed unthinkable-, found himself actually feeling quite afraid for Jimmy’s father.

Apparently, even the man in question was shaken by Senior’s sudden, and too friendly demeanor.

  
“Rich… Richard, please…” his voice was soft, again. Barely able to be heard through the vent.

  
And, honestly, Simmons was a little shocked. In all the years their families had known each other… he’d never heard Jimmy’s dad call his father “Richard”. It was… It was just weird.

And, another thing that made him think of was how although Jimmy’d always said, and seemed to think they’d known each other since first grade… Simmons wasn’t so sure… (Although, sometimes, even Jimmy slipped up, and said kindergarten. Like even HE wasn’t really sure.)… With the way their parents talked when they thought they weren’t listening… It seemed like _they’d_ all known each other since _they’d_ been kids.

Who knew.

And, crap! That didn’t matter at that particular moment as Father had started spouting off… some scary sci-fi shit. That might be cool in a movie, or comic book, or movie _based_ off a comic book, but not when it had to do with people you knew! And… and even  yourself… and Richard.

Then, it was more, ya know… freaky as fuck.

Simmons hoped to GOD Father’d simply lost his mind, and none of it was true. After all, he sounded SO strange as he spoke the following words… Even Senior’s accent could hardly be heard.

Simmons refocused. Although a part of him? Really didn’t want to…

 

“-Subject Name: James ~~Jacquette~~ Junior. -Last name redacted on master logs for origin anonymity-. Referred to as ‘Triple J’ by the techs- Cause they think they’re So. Damn. Clever-

“Rich-”

“Initial status: Successful Emulation. Subject Belonging to: Second ‘successful’ wave. Further Testing and Experimentation-”

A sudden strangled, enraged cry caused Simmons to jump a bit, “THAT I NEVER AGREED TO! You. Fucking. Never. Said! You never said that was part of the deal! ‘Further Testing and Experimentation’- He was still practically a baby! So was Richie! Richard was still a goddamn KID!”

“…James?...” Father sounded so calm. Too calm, “I’m not done talking, James… Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yes! Further Testing and Experimentation Findings as Follows: No signs of inorganic/biological amalgamation on a cellular level. Final status: _Failure_. Ya hear that, James? Fail-ure. But, I know! How’s ‘bout let’s give these _Failures_ -who ain’t got the Spark like my Richard- let’s call ‘em cute lil nicknames n’ act like it all never happened! Like they’re natural born ‘nstead a mistakes with overcharged, yet, somehow, shitty immune systems. Let’s call the hybrid back-up… Hmmm… Lemme see here… Richie! Ain’t that fuckin’ _adorable_ -”

  
Simmons was whining lowly in the back of his throat without having a clue that he was doing it.

  
“What’s happened to you, Rich?,” James seemed to be pleading with him, “We were talking about _Jimmy_ , but you just have to find any excuse to attack Richie. It’s creepy! How can you be willing to do anything for Richard, n’ hate the ground his Richie walks on? Lord have mercy, you’ve become such a monster.”

  
Had-Had there been a time… where he hadn’t been?

  
“Hmph. A ‘monster’. Ridiculous. Yer all too soft. We reward _success_ , an’ loyalty, James. Ya know that. An’ yet, we kept our failures. I let m’ boy Richard keep Richie, n’ that there botch is a thorn in my side! Look what happened cause a’ that damn Richie n’ his mama! My boy don’t even look like me anymore! He looks like that fuckin’ pretty boy FAILURE! Like that tranq’d out godless whore! That fuckin’ cunt!”

“JESUS, Rich! Don’t call her those things! Whether you like it or not, that’s your _wife!_ And, you CHOSE to use her for Richie…”

  
Okay, that’s IT! This was not okay! Not alright!

Simmons was nearly internally shrieking, _Richard, w-wake the fuck up! Right now! Wake up! Wake up! I’mScaredI’mScaredI’mScared-_

  
“Richie... Fuckin’ Richie…” Senior was busy sounding contemplative, “WHY ya got such a soft spot for…”

  
_R-Richard! I know things seem bad, but they’re not-not even the way they see-_

  
“Oh, I git it… After all, let’s not forget ‘bout **you** … We kept yer lil’ failure, too, didn’t we?…” Senior’s voice lowered a bit. “… ‘member it like it was yesterday… Let’s all call this lil’ angelic beauty of a boy- So _purty_ like his daddy- let’s call ‘em ‘Jimmy’-”

“Fuck you.” 

“-An’, then, we’ll pretend it all never happened with those two ‘nsteada scrappin’ ‘em both n’ startin’ from scratch n’-”

“StopItStopIt! You’re sick, Rich! Just cause they aren’t ‘natural’ born, like you like to call it, and they were exper-… whatever… that doesn’t mean they’re fucking disposable! Just- I- Dammit, no wonder Em turned on you. It doesn’t matter how brilliant but kinda… off… she’s always been, her heart could- could never take this- And, you just watch- now that you pulled this with-with my… You KNOW how Richard is about Richie an’ Jimmy. You know! He’ll be next to turn on you- On US- An’ Em mighta raised him, she might be his mother, so to speak, -which I still can’t believe you let her do that considering she was still a _teenager_ when he was… ‘born’-”

  
Simmons was trembling badly now, but listening carefully again rather than mentally screeching for Richard. He was listening so, so very carefully. Memorizing every word. Every nuance…

  
Senior sighed disappointedly. Like James’ lack of understanding was simply _exhausting_ to him, “I didn’t ‘let her’ do nothin’ ‘bout that. Who else’d be his ‘mama’ if not her? Richard wouldn’t even exist if not fer her. None of ‘em would, James. Not as who an’ what they are, anyway… We both know that. None of us can match her genius or do what she’s able ta’ do… *Sigh*… That damn stubborn manic woman… She jus’ needs… needs ta’ be found so she can right her wrongs n’ be brought back inta the fold.”

“And, be _punished,_ right?,” James sounded disgusted, “Locked up this time so she can’t escape, again? So she can’t-”

  
Senior spoke so softly. So softly that Simmons had to press his ear down closer to the vent. He was suddenly so grateful that Father was too much of a cheapskate to turn the heating system on until it was nearly freezing.

Imagine if the heater had activated in the middle of all this, and drown out everything that Simmons, no matter how terrified and confused he was, needed to hear!

But, luckily, that didn’t happen. So Simmons closed his eyes, again, and-

Dammit! He wasn’t sure what he’d missed, but he HAD missed something Father had been so lowly saying.

Shit!

And, now it was Jimmy’s dad that was talking, or yelling, about Richard, and whoever ‘Em’ was, again.

  
“Whatever! Just shut up! None of that’s gonna matter when Richard goes nuclear. And, _trust me_ , when he turns on us, he won’t be as peaceable as her. Em might be crazy, but Richard... he takes it to a whole ‘nother level! Do you remember what he did at my house, what he nearly did to _me_ when you first pulled that shit with the ‘camp’, and he couldn’t find Jimmy? Do you remember? No? Of course, you don’t! Cause you stayed outta range, you bastard! Richard’s fucking _dangerous_ when he’s pushed too far, dammit! Least with Em-”

*CRASH*

  
Poor Simmons nearly shot to his feet in alarm. He actually jerked up, and away from the vent as if his father was about to reach through it, and grab him by the throat.

  
“ **Enough**! You jus’ stop talkin’ ‘bout her! Unless yer tellin’ me she’s bin found n’ ya have her fer me, You. Don’t. EVER. Talk. Bout. Her!”

“F-F-… FINE! Fine. I’m just trying to _warn_ you, because I still give half a fuck about you! I’m probably the only one left who-… Never mind… You’re so impossible to talk to! You always have been….”

 

The redhead let out a soft breath, and settled back down onto the floor.

  
“Anyway, my whole point was that… ‘starting from- from scratch’… I don’t… You know we don’t talk about any of that. That was never an option for my family! We aren’t YOU! An’ what am I saying. Even YOU, with all your bluster n’ bullshit, didn’t do that with-with Richie-” 

“Thas cause Richard wouldn’t hear of it! You say he’s bad, now, but ya _know_ how dangerous and uncontrollable that boy was back then! He woulda brought the whole damn facility down ‘round our ears! Jus’ wasn’t feasible. Not with his ‘connection’ with that damn failure of a-”

“Can you STOP with calling Richie a ‘failure’, already! It’s **stupid**!”

  
Even though Jimmy’s father was pretty much sticking up for him, Simmons still winced at the so hated word “stupid”.

  
“-I really don’t get how you can even CALL him a ‘failure’, at all! Richie IS absolutely an overall success. An’ he’s just as much of The Blood as Richard n’ Jimmy are. Maybe in a more… roundabout way… But, you should count him as more of an asset then you do. There’s never been anyone like Richie before that we know of. Not just due to his physicality, but his functionality as a complete support and potential-”

“SHUT UP with that shit! That boys been nothin’ but a disappointment ta’ me! Those boys shoulda been able ta’ work in tandem. The ultimate team- ultimate unsuspected threat! But, instead, he’s nearly ruint everything! They had ta’ have been linked from day one. Ya realize that doncha? Otherwise how would this a even been able ta’ happen? An’ that lil bastard HID it from me! I ‘spect that from Richard. But, RICHIE! He was meant ta’ always be obedient! But, no! Between him n’ yer boy- Hell, when I think a the things I coulda got Richard ta’ do if not fer this over-developed ‘consequence’ or ‘moral code’ I never wanted ‘em ta’ have, that he picked up from those damn worthless boys… Fuck… Wish I woulda stuck with only him-”

“’Only’ him?,” James asked in a tone of bewilderment, “What do you mean ‘only’ him? What? Did you decide to conveniently ‘forget’ about-”

Senior spoke over the other man, “An’ you know what? You know what?”

Father was starting to really sound drunk, now. The bourbon always seemed to hit him outta left field. They must’ve been drinking through this whole thing.

  
“I was thinkin’. I don’t want cha’ to go actin’ like Richie- RICHIE- Richard’s lil fuckin’ know-it-all brat- yer actin’ like he’s more my boy? Than my Richard? Than my own PURE BLOOD n’-”

“ALRIGHT! Alright. *Hic* Sorry,” Oh, boy. Him, too. Although, with how much he’d been sticking up to Father, and taking his small stature into account, he surely had been wasted for a while now, “Just… Don’t **you** act like it was wrong to try… Jimmy, Richie… Even if Richie WAS hiding everything… They both shoulda been able to live a… more normal life… They didn’t… None of ‘em… seemed to turn out like Richard so-…”

“Course not!” And, Senior suddenly sounded confusingly damn proud of that apparent fact, “An’ ya know, ya shouldn’t- don’t even go lumpin’ your boy an’ Richie together,” Senior said expansively, “Least your boy’s originally Pure like Richard- well, in terms a The Blood, anyway.”

“Son of a bitch…… What does that have ta’ do… I don’t understand the way your mind works… *Sigh* Let’s-Let’s just forget it for now…”

Silence. Clinking crystal glasses.

_*Loud Sigh*_

“Look, James, don’t worry ‘bout it! I know what yer thinkin’. But, if he gets too outta control… Richard has to sleep, sometimes. That body ain’t strong enough to contain both of ‘em without one of ‘em needing to recharge, at some point. And, if Richard pushes it too far… I warned him, years n’ years ago, not ta’ get attached to anyone that could be used against ‘em. It’s his own damn fault for disobeying a direct order… But, he’ll get it one day. He’s still young, yet.”

“Young! You forget! He isn’t really a 17 year old! Hell, when you think about what he’s been involved in since back before all this here _weirdness_ , about what he REALLY is, he isn’t even like a damn 23 year-”

“We’re ALL _involved_ , now, James. No backin’ out. Jus’ be glad your family got a lil’ mercy after the shit ya’ll tried ta’ pull back in the day with Em. Yer damn lucky I… Anyway… N’ even now. _Still_ bein’ given mercy fer your family that others wouldn’t be gettin’. You know what happens ta’ failures that keep causin’ trouble! You know how it coulda gone with your boy- He’s damn lucky he’s yours-”

  
Simmons’ eyes were so wide, yet, so glazed. He’d truly given up on trying, on trying to completely figure out, to _process_ this- this influx of information- this absolute information dump- on his own.

Instead, he simply continued to **absorb** every word. Burn it into his memory for future reference. For when Richard was awake and-

  
“-know YOU like to keep extra ‘bargaining chips’ in the form a people in play. An’ I’m tellin’ you, AGAIN, I. Don’t. Like. This! Marianne’s a wreck-”

“So buy her somethin’ nice...” Senior said as flippantly as can be, “That always shuts the damn gals up.”

  
Ew. Yikes. That was distractingly fucked up. It was like Senior was saying, ‘Sure, jus’ go buy the bitch somethin’ expensive n’, even though we pulled some fucked up shit with ‘er kid, she’ll shut ‘er yap..’

Despite how much girls freaked him out (He just didn’t understand how they _operated_.), Simmons still thought that was an insanely disgusting thing to say about Jimmy’s mother. Now, maybe his _own_ mother would be more easily susceptible to such things-

Though, it’d be designer tranqs rather than designer dresses that she’d prefer…

  
James gave no audible reply, though Simmons could practically picture his glare before he continued, “-an’ Jackie-… Look, she’s _furious_ , Rich. Ya know she’s always been an’ advocate for the boys an’ this… _relationship_ of theirs… She won’t keep quiet about this-”

Senior snorted in disgust, “She’s yer _daughter_ , James. Actually naturally born a’ yer anointed wife. She ain’t the same as the boys. You tellin’ me you can’t keep one lil’ natural gal under control?”

“I- I don’t… Dammit, Rich! You **know** how she is ‘bout her brother, and even your boys! She-”

“Yeh. An’ I know she WILL keep quiet. Least to keep The Mercy for yer family. Won’t she?”

Silence. You could hear a pin drop kinda silence.

“I said _Won’t. She?_ ”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah. I’ll take care of it… Fuck…”

“I know you will. You always bin loyal when it counts, my friend. Now, don’t be so damn gloomy! Had to be done, James. Had ta’ break ‘em. He was still too damn strong-willed, n’ I need ‘em focused on end results!... An’ your boy an’ that damn Richie, too are jus’ too fuckin’ smart… N’ they all get ‘em ta’ be too damn sentimental n’ soft, too. He’s only gotten worse since his… thing with yer boy…”

Again, James seemed to not know what to say.

“Ah, c’mon, it’s not like it’ll be forever, James!,” Senior was being too friendly, again. In a less scary way, but… Like he was in wheeler dealer mode, “Boys’ll be _fine_. Hell, I a’ready told ya from the start that if it all goes well on Friday… It’ll be like it never happened…”

“Goes well? Goes WELL? HA! That boy’s _traumatized_. Don’t know WHAT makes you think he’ll be up ta’ workin’-”

Senior sounded dismissive, “Yeh. Richard’s in a bit of a slump-”

“And, whose fault is that?,” James reproached him.

“-but, when the rage hits, he’ll be able ta’ take care a’ it. Ya know he wouldn’t a’ done this without the push. Yer boys made ‘im _weak_. Was bad ‘nough back in the day with jus’ Richie, but with **both** of ‘em whisperin’ in his ear-”

“You FUCK!”

  
James screamed it loud enough that Simmons’ head instinctively tilted up. Toward the window. Thinking of the neighbors… The neighbors who wouldn’t dare to come to check that all was well even if it seemed they were needed…

  
“My boy hasn’t been doing a lot of ‘whispering’ lately, you mother fucking-!”

“Signin’, whatever. _Relax_ , James. Richard took care a’ Sandra fer that, didn’t he?,” Senior soothed, “Ya see? He can do the hard work. Sometimes the boy jus’ has ta’ be properly motivated. An’ he’ll channel all this… whatever… n’ take care a’ things on Friday, now. It HAS to be done, James. Ya know what happens… to all of us… if it isn’t… taken care of.”

“And, why couldn’t you just tell Richard that?! He CAN be reasonable once in a while if you approach him right. If he understood the magnitude of the situation- Of what we’re facing,” James implored. He sounded downright emotional. “Why-Why would you just go to such extr-”

“Cause it wouldn’t a’ worked, James! Those damn boys are more ‘married’ than we are ta’ our fuckin’ wives! They’re _promised_ fer fuck’s sake! An’ Richard even somehow got it all undergroun’ _sanctioned!_. Can’t believe the goddamn **balls** that boy has! ‘specially with bein’ stuck with Richie,” Father said as a snide aside before continuing in a tone of bewilderment that nonetheless didn’t hide how impressed he was, “Can’t figure out how the hell he did it…”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” James sighed.

  
Simmons didn’t understand. Why’d it have to be such a big deal? He hadn’t thought it was when Richard talked about it to him first before he did anything. It just made logical sense. Richard had just wanted like a… a symbol that him and Jimmy would always be together. That they were, uh… devoted to each other n’ stuff. Simmons had understood it more than Richard had thought he would. He understood the need to have something solid, something tangible in a world so filled with uncertainties and insecurities.

  
Father was going on… and the shit he was saying all blasé like it was just no big deal… Damn. This had to have been where Richard learned to have all those moments of no filter, “I mighta thought Richard jus’ wanted ta’ fuck ‘im n’ it’d be like a frickin’ phase- That if we kept it quiet ta’ keep ‘im happy ‘nough ta’ do the hard work then they’d burn out naturally n’ move on-”

“Y-You-You- Don’t say that kind of-!,” Jimmy’s father sputtered.

“But, no!,” Senior spoke over him. Getting more heated with every word, “He _loves_ that damn pretty boy n’ I jus’ KNOW he tells ‘im every-fuckin’-thing! N’ they’d figure a way ta’ half-ass what needs ta’ be done! Ta’ try ta’ be more ‘kind’, more ‘fair’. An’ maybe I let that crap slide in the past, -like with that sneaky shit Richard pulled with the Delano’s not too long ago-, but that ain’t gonna cut it this time. If this fails… they’ll ‘cut ties’ with us all, James. An’ ya know what that means… But, Richard… damn boy’ll do whatever him n’ your boy think is best every time. An’ between him tryin’ to always look out fer Richie n’ the fuckin’ hard-on he’s got fer that hot lil’ tart-”

“Shut your FILTHY mouth! I TOLD you, whatever the deal- however YOU choose to see all this- he’s still my son!”

“Yeah, sure. And, I ain’t denyin’ he’s a damn looker. Real pretty lil’ thing. Hell, I probably even woulda wanted ta’ keep ‘im ta’ myself back in the day, too-”

“*SLAM* LIAR!...”

  
James shouted loud enough this time to cause Simmons to actually _feel_ Richard stir… Before he seemed to slip away, again…

  
Meanwhile, the small-statured man was busily trying to backtrack, “I-I mean… Rich, don’t- I can’t believe- Do you REALIZE what you’re even say- Anyway, never mind. This isn’t about u- about that-”

“Ain’t it, though? C’mon, James. You remember back before we-”

“Shut up!”

 

Holy FUCK! Was Father _hitting_ on James? Or just being a prick? Simmons would _prefer_ he was simply being a prick! After all the years of bigoted, intolerant, hateful crap, -from Senior more than anyone else-, that they’d all had to live through… if he was _actually_ trying to-to-

 

“Always bin so pr-” Senior sounded playful. _Teasing._

  
Oh my fucking GOD! The audacity! It was **unbelievable**! Simmons could PUKE!

  
“Look, you sadistic, heartless FUCKER,” Jimmy’s father apparently was also not amused as he growled angrily, sounding remarkably similar to his son despite all the swears, “I don’t give a flying fuck how much bigger than me you are, I’ll knock your ass out-”

“Yeah, yeah…” Senior was clearly unfazed by the threat, “ _Anyways_ , if things’d bin different, if yer boy’d **actually** bin a girl, -though THAT woulda been a shocker, considerin’, huh, James?” Father chuckled in amusement.

“You’re SUCH an asshole,” James replied blandy, but he sounded a little calmer.

“Heh. Well, if that woulda somehow bin the case, this here coulda worked out ta’ all our advantages… But, he ain’t no girl no matter _how_ pretty the lil brat looks in a dress n’ lipstick-”

  
One enraged father coming up.

  
“SON OF A- You shut the fuck up with that shit!”

Senior ignored him, “-So, on top a’ all his damn meddlin’, he really had NO right to get his hands on my Richard in the first place.”

Simmons could actually HEAR the deep breath Jimmy’s father took before he fervently contended, “Oh, you wanna talk about that, huh? Fine! Let’s fucking talk about that! You know what- what I think? I think YOUR boys were always the real problem here!”

  
Oh. Well, shit. So much for James sticking up for Richard or Simmons, who they kept calling ‘Richie’. So dumb. That SO wasn’t his fucking name.

It wasn’t!

  
“Richie hiding all this with Richard after what happened for _years_ , and Richard- well, hell, no matter what he really is, he’s still acting like a fucking deviant! Back before all this, shit… you know, how it was! That boy started fuckin’ the gals right out the gate! An’ that was fine! But, when the… accident happened, and he-he… ended up with Richie… he just turned my boy into his own lil’ dress-up doll! Like it wasn’t enough for him to BE with my boy an’ just let us get used to that- NO! He just had to _girlify_ him!”

  
Uh… Suuure. Did he even know his own son? Seriously, Simmons couldn’t remember a time when Jimmy _hadn’t_ been “girlified”.

  
“HAD to have been _his_ idea to dress my boy up like that with how much he liked to mess around with the gals before. An’ like I said, I’m not surprised about him an’ the gals, n’ I don’t blame the kid. After all, you were the same so what’s to be expected when he’s actually your fucking-”

  
*KNOCK* *KNOCK*

  
The sound of loud knocking made Simmons jump, again.

But, wait.

He didn’t really jump this time. Not externally. And, he was standing in front of his father’s office door-

What?!

He’d been in his room! Eavesdropping- er, uh- _Overhearing_ through the vent…

Richard.

He’d, evidently, woken up out of his stupor, _walked_ them here, and **knocked** , all without Simmons realizing a thing.

Well, that- that was freaking scary-

And, how much had Simmons missed during their robotic walk over here?!

  
“Dammit! Ya know not ta’ disturb me, Richie!” Father hollered furiously, “Now, git-”

“It’s me,” Richard said through the thick door. Loud enough to be heard, but so very subdued.

“Oh,” Startled. Father actually seemed startled, “Richard.”

“Oh, please God, no,” All at once, James moaned in fear and misery, “Rich, I can’t- I can’t do thi-”

“Shut up, James!,” Senior was instantly switching over and hissing in a barely heard undertone before calling out expansively, “What the hell ya knockin’ for? Git on in here, boy!”

  
Simmons wanted to say something. To beg Richard to NOT go in there with them! To go back to their room, instead, so he could talk to him about the things he’d heard, and work on analyzing everything completely and precisely-

But, he was, honestly, very distracted by Richard’s sudden riotous, incomprehensible thoughts.

While they may have been almost like a very low, quiet background noise at first, they had ramped up into something else.

Something so jumbled and dark… something that almost seemed to be ticking and snapping too quickly to be understood.

And… And there was another thing… something else that had captured Simmons’ attention. Something that he really wanted to ask Richard about. He just wanted to ask about- about what… what that was in their jacket pocket that Richard kept shifting their thoughts away from… (It, unfortunately, wouldn’t be the last time Simmons wondered something along these lines.)

[“R-Richard-?,” Simmons attempted to speak to him internally. To persuade him to turn around. To- To not do anything before he could talk to him. To take a second- just a second… to LISTEN.]

It was getting cold.

And, the tingle. That distinctive tingle.

[Richard’s response was void of any discernable emotion, “Shhh… Go to sleep, Kid… Go to sleep, now…”]

And, with no other choice… Simmons did.

☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁

 

It was the smell that woke Simmons.

BourbonandBloodBourbonandBlood.

It was normally Richard that was sensitive to smell, but this was so **strong**.

Uhhh… he felt so… woozy…

Like he was fading in and out, in and out.

Muddled images. Muffled voices…

But, then, Richard _slammed_ their fist against the solid wood of the mahogany desk before them-

And, everything shot into clear focus.

Father… half-slumped in his chair… With thick dark-dark red b-blood and-and wet, sticky stains of bourbon dripping and slowly running down his hair… his temple to his jaw… down onto his previously crisp white shirt…

There was glass- glass in the raven streaked through with grey strands, and on the desk.

This… wasn’t… possible… Right?

Although, Simmons could see… his mind couldn’t immediately comprehend the physical scene before him.

But, he could hear… and grasp the meaning behind… everything… just-

Everything.

  
“-thought you could just take him from me. Not even let me say goodbye?,” Richard was speaking to their bleeding father almost conversationally.

  
It was terrifying.

And, Simmons, himself, _couldn’t_ even speak. Couldn’t alert Richard to the things he had discovered or to the fact that he was even there with him (Something Richard, in his current state of mind, seemed completely unaware of.).

  
“Richard, ya… gone too far, boy- Did… did ya put Richie’s mama’s… medicine in the- in the drinks, too?… On top a’ doin’ this… Jesus, boy, n-… now, ya gone n’- n’ done it…”

Richard completely ignored him, and continued, “Let him have been afraid. Alone. Without me?-”

“Boy, don’t… ya don’t… maybe-maybe James was right… This was-was a… a… bad idea… You, uh, call… call Richie’s mama, now. Think ya got me a li-li-little too hard… Bleedin’ like a… a stuck pig…”

  
_And, he was. He WAS._

  
“You won’t let me see him? Let me see my Jimmy?”

“Richard, boy, ‘nough a’ that, right now… Is my J- is James dead?,” Senior’s voice was shaking, “Lord- Lord Almighty, did- did ya kill your boy’s daddy? You think that’s what he wanted ya ta’ do?”

  
Ohhh, shit. What had Richard done? What had he done?!

Simmons wanted to turn their head, and look toward the seat that Jimmy’s dad always sat in. To see what- To see if he was-

But, Richard had total control over their body, and he was focusing in on Father. Standing right in front of him…

  
“You take him from me, I take away your EVERYTHING, Senior… But, don’t worry. James is just… resting… for now… But, hey! Never mind about _your_ boyfriend. I just thought of a fuckin’ _fun_ idea,” Simmons could _feel_ their lips turn up. Could feel Richard SMILING at Father like an absolute fucking lunatic, “A little game we can play. You like GAMES, right? So let’s play pretend. How’s about I just sit here on your knee, huh?... And, let’s pretend that I really WAS the _good_ son _**allll**_ along… An’ then- This is the best- my _FAVORITE_ part!- then, I’ll. Just. Watch. You. Die… Cool, right?”

“Richard-” Senior looked like he was struggling to stay conscious.

“Yep. Sounds real _intriguing_ to me,” Richard continued. And, he sounded so good-natured at such a time that, well, fuck, Simmons would’ve been struck speechless if he wasn’t already trapped in such a state as it was, “That’s what you taught me, right? To be vicious. To be fucking heartless like you. After all, everyone who’s not one of ‘us’ is just a ‘pawn to be played’, remember?”

“S-Son-”

“I mean, I **could** call for help, but why would I do that? That doesn’t sound very _fun_ to ME, old man…” Simmons felt Richard’s Cheshire cat grin rapidly turn upside down, “All the fucked up shit I did for you, and I only asked for one, ONE thing.”

And, to Simmons continued confusion, Father (Fuck he was stubborn! It was un-freaking-real!) kept weakly _arguing_ with Richard instead of simply telling him the truth like any sane individual would at this point, “You and yer-yer babyin’ Richie… yer fuckin’ fa-fascination with that-that lil’ girly boy-”

“JIMMY! His name is-… w-was-… Why? Why didn’t you let me help my Jimmy? At least, let me be with him so he’d know- he’d know…” his voice broke, and Simmons could’ve **killed** Father himself for causing Richard, causing them _both_ , so much needless pain, “-know someone that loved him, and didn’t judge him, was there?... Well? WHY DIDN’T YOU?!”

  
Richard started to lean toward him. Teeth suddenly bared. He seemed for all the world on the verge of trying to _rip_ the azure-eyed man’s throat out with nothing but their teeth.

And, Senior _finally_ gave in. Raised a shaky hand to stall him, so he could try to say-

  
“Wait. Wait. A’right… A’right, boy. You win. It’s not- not what yer thinkin’. James was- was right… We shouldn’t a’- Didn’t think you were _this_ … attached.”

  
Mother F-! God, Father was such a LIAR! Even now! Hadn’t he been the one saying that Jimmy and Richard seemed more actually “married” than even himself and Simmons’ mother or James and Marianne were?

  
“Maybe, I could’ve saved him,” Richard blurted out in agony and fury, “I- I… IDidWithRichie!”

  
...

...

What?

  
“We- It-it’s not really the same… Ya see, your boy, he’s- he’s not actu- L-Look, jus’- jus’ calm down, now. Listen, we, uh… No. _I_ … It-It was me, a’right? Ya leave James outta this, now. Jus- leave ‘im be n’-n’ I’ll tell… Sh-Shit, boy, I knew ya’ll would run on away, again… Look how many times ya a’ready did!” Though his voice was unsteady, he really attempted to sound convincing, “An’ with… with that there lil’ boy bein’ 18, now, n’… ya know… _Richie_ n’- n’ you, now, nearly bein’ 18, too… C’mon, boy, be reasonable. Look at it from a business side a’ things. Shit’s got bad, son. We NEED you, right now. Couldn’t- Couldn’t risk you bailin’ on us at a time like this ta’ take ‘em cross state borders, again-”

“And. I. Want. His. Ring,” Richard raged, completely oblivious to the words their father was saying, “YouGiveMeHisRingBackYouHomophobicFuck!!!”

  
DAMMIT! Richard wasn’t really understanding anything Father was saying!

His rage, his agony was SO intense (His mind screaming over and over within their head: _Not my Raven! Not my Jimmy Bean! NoNoNoNO- Not My Sweet Baby, Not My Sweet Baby… -_ ), that he truly wasn’t hearing, wasn’t _registering_ anything their father was saying.

And, how did Father confessing his fucking sins mean anything if Richard wouldn’t LISTEN!

Wouldn’t listen and wasn’t capable of processing the hope amidst the madness.

If he couldn’t begin to calm down enough to comprehend what Simmons absolutely believed to be fact.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time **they** ’d blatantly, and heartlessly lied to get their way, now would it?

(Although, this, uh, yeah… this fuckery really took the cake.)

And, with everything they’d been saying that Simmons had overheard… With what Senior seemed to be trying to say, now…

He had really sounded like he’d been right about to give in, and flat out tell them that Jimmy wasn’t- wasn’t actually dead, after all, before Richard had lost his shit about the promise ring…

And, let’s not forget how Father had just straight out said to Richard that Jimmy was “18, now”! Not, that he ‘had been 18’ or anything like that.

But-But-

Even taking into consideration everything Simmons had heard… he still had to break it down. To zero in on this one aspect. Putting aside all the rest. To pick it all apart piece by piece.

It was just in his nature.

And, when he did so, it all basically boiled down to these main points-

_Could_ they have hidden Jimmy away? Were they capable of doing such a thing? And, did they have the connections to pull it off? At least temporarily? As Simmons more had the feeling that this had been meant to cause Richard to go supernova on a directed target/s (Whatever they needed him to do had to be BAD.) before possibly… rewarding him with getting Jimmy back? (That whole “…it’s not like it’ll be forever, James… Boys’ll be _fine_ … told ya from the start that if it all goes well on Friday… It’ll be like it never happened…”)

Were they planning to try to pass it all off as some fuck-up with the hospital or… something?

Did they think Richard was a fucking idiot?... Or… simply that he’d be blinded by unexplainable relief and immeasurable gratitude?... And, also, by how much he already hated and didn’t trust their local hospital that was almost entirely staffed by members of the Church…

Hmm… Yeah, it mighta worked.

For a while, at least. ‘Til Simmons’ curious, never easily satisfied mind got ahold of the whole conundrum.

But, regardless of all that, the ill-conceived and clearly desperate plan had obviously backfired, anyway.

But… the question still remained. Could they have entirely fabricated or used a possibly genuine medical non-emergency and turned it into something more? Told them Jimmy’d… d-died… when he really hadn’t? That Richard couldn’t see him cause he’d had a grand mal on the way to the hospital, and he didn’t need to remember him like that... Cause, that made SO much fucking sense, right? Like as if in such a situation a person’s body would just STAY frozen in some contorted, unmovable fashion after they p-passed. So fucking retarded.

Could Jimmy currently be among the missing, rather than the forever lost? It sounded like SUCH a twisted, sick thing for anyone to even conceive of doing, but…

This was **them**.

And, completely putting aside all of the… the freaky as fuck shit he’d just heard about w-where they all had come from, how they’d originally come to be, what-what they whe-

-Yeah, Simmons would have a nervous breakdown about that in a second. He had to remember to _prioritize_ his particular freak-outs at this point-

Cause let’s be real here. The truth was that even before Simmons had overheard a single, solitary word from Father or James’ mouths, he had _already_ suspected that everything was not as they claimed it to be. And, now it was absolutely blatantly evident that the story Richard had been told in regards to Jimmy, that had somewhat bled through to Simmons, was not remotely based on fact…

So… yes. The answer to these questions was an unequivocal yes. They had the means, the connections, and, apparently (Despite Jimmy’s family being against it.) the cruelty of spirit capable of, at the very least, attempting to pull off such a thing.

And, also-

Wait a minute.

Where the fuck was Jimmy’s dog?

Richard had insisted on getting him a puppy years ago because Jimmy was **terrified** to sleep alone now for some reason Simmons couldn’t quite… quite remember. And, even though, at this point, due to it being part of some agreement between Richard and their parents that Simmons wasn’t privy to, (And, the added promise to keep their relationship hidden away behind closed doors from the rest of the community and the public at large.), Jimmy spent almost every night with Richard and Simmons either at his or their house (Though the raven-haired boy would _never_ , at least to Simmons’ recollection, agree to stay at their house if Senior was in town and in the house.), there were times Richard had to…

Well, Simmons wasn’t always sure exactly what he was doing. But, their father had him doing _something_ , and, sometimes, he (They) had to be gone for days, or a week or more, at a time.

-It was a good thing Simmons had graduated early-

And, during those times, Jimmy had his dog, -that Richard had trained, by the way-, to watch out for him, and sleep close to him.

But, Simmons hadn’t seen him anywhere (And, he always came out to greet them.) I mean, they had been to Jimmy’s house since all this had happened, but… they hadn’t been thinking about that...

All at once, all the pieces truly clicked together, -his suspicions from before, and- and just all the flat out proof (Proof of life he guessed you’d say?) garnered from his eavesdropping (Fuck it. Let’s call it what it was.)-, and it truly and completely HIT him.

Not as a probable theory, but as a provable FACT.

And, Simmons was finally 100 percent _sure_ that they HAD pulled some sick trick. Which was horrifying, but, also, wonderful because that would mean Jimmy WAS alive… somewhere… And, they just had to find out where-

The rest… everything about… about who or-or WHAT they all were… _Fuckin’ screw it!_ They’d figure that out when they were all together, again, because-

Because, **they** obviously knew where Jimmy was, and them all being together, again… it seemed more than possible, now. Where before…

Oh, thank freaking God! Richard would be so- relieved was such an understatement- he would- Wait! Simmons had to quit messing around and tell him! Get THROUGH to him. Because Richard was in that strange, unexplainable headspace where he couldn’t hear him unless Simmons spoke aloud…

But, Simmons didn’t have a clue, he wasn’t even sure how to _begin_ to word all of this… So, he just opened their mouth to speak, and-

And, there was a sound from the chair across from them. Just out of eyesight…

-Ah, fuck! Glad you’re not dead n’ all that, James- I really am! But your timing… yeah. It’s simply _impeccable!_ -

  
Coughing. Unsteady sharp intakes of breath. James, Jimmy’s father, barely regaining consciousness, and mumbling to their father, “Rich, I- I told you. We sh-shouldn’t a- so cruel- cruel… Bad-Bad idea. Bad-… T-Tell him- Tell…”

  
Richard turned, slowly, toward the man that was slumped over the mahogany desk.

Whose so dark, nearly black eyes were fluttering closed, again.

And, he reached across to put a slender finger to Jimmy’s father’s lips.

Hearing his voice, but, again, not registering the words as Simmons was.

And, he got down off Father’s knee.

Because, y-yes. He had actually been perched there, _watching_.

As Simmons had been analyzing everything on a fairly rudimentary level, yet, coming to a final firm conclusion… Richard had been busy… watching.

Watching their father’s viscous red blood drip… drip… down into his so white, starched collar…

 

He had truly lost it.

 

But-But, Simmons did notice that Jimmy’s father wasn’t really- r-really bleeding that much. Richard had, apparently, only knocked him out. He could’ve easily k-killed him. With what a little guy he was, and-and how strong Richard was… With just a-a little more force…

Maybe, in the long run, he held him less responsible?

Or, maybe, seeing him… this attractive man that Jimmy looked so like… more than you could begin to say… Jimmy’s father always hid his feminine, lovely features behind neat, short facial hair, and very smarty-pants looking glasses…

Perhaps, seeing his so familiar, though older face… Richard couldn’t bear to actually…

Holy shit-Holy shit… It’s frightening… the things you don’t notice… Or, just discount as natural coincidences of nature.

Maybe, when it really boiled down to it, Richard had incapacitated Jimmy’s father first because he knew that James, even now, would take a bullet for Senior, and he didn’t want any distractions while he… dealt with- with Father?

All or parts of that may have been true.

But, as Richard stalked the few steps over to the smaller man, Simmons had to rethink some of it.

Cause, oh yes, Richard held him accountable, too. Maybe, to a lesser degree but-

Oh, my freaking-

As Richard approached him, Jimmy’s father actually tried to make the sign of the cross at him.

It looked _ridiculous_ , even in such a moment of violence and bloodlust.

Simmons wasn’t sure he could blame him, though. After all, he could FEEL that wild, dangerous grin spreading across their face, once again.

  
And, Richard laughed heartily, -a sound that would’ve sounded so _odd_ coming out of Simmons’ slender form even on the best of days-, as he slapped the smaller man’s thigh, much, much too hard for how friendly his voice suddenly sounded, “Oh, that stuff doesn’t work on _me_ , DAD. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? After all, your son and I _were_ ‘promised’, as they call it. Oh, but we were so young, and it was such a complicated situation, though, huh? But, that’s not what bothered you fucks, was it?”

  
Okay. Alright. This was enough, already! Simmons HAD to do something. This was getting progressively worse and worse, and the important thing, which Richard was too far gone to even be aware of, was not even being acknowledged or accomplished!

  
And, so he did it. Although, he knew their father HATED when he spoke to him, he piped up and asked, “F-Father, p-please, just stop this. Tell us where you guys hid him, okay?”

  
And, Richard nearly had them _vomit_ right there on the office floor. If they’d been able to eat, to hold down food that day or the day before, they likely would’ve. He (Or, they.) actually _gagged_. So vividly picturing his little Jimmy as a cold and moldering _corpse_.

Thinking Simmons, whose presence he hardly seemed surprised by, was talking about where Jimmy’s **body** was, so they could, at least, at least say…

But, that wasn’t what Simmons had meant at all!

But, before, he could correct Richard’s assumptions, Father was speaking to him, to _him_.

  
“Richie,” Father sounded sick, and looked like he was going to pass out, but he attempted to put on his “nice” voice, “Boy, I’m- glad yer here. Thas’ my good boy. Y-You go on, now- go on n’ call your mama.”

“Hu-oh. Oh, Senior,” Richard turned back to him. Just that quickly distracted, and pulling his "bipolar" act. And, he shook their head a bit in sudden, yet, so amused disbelief, “Tsk. After everything you’ve done to this boy, everything you’ve made ME do to keep you and your demons, -and I DO mean of the human variety-, off his and Jimmy’s backs, you really think he would side with you, now? He. Is. MINE. MY son. More mine than he was ever yours. He comes from ME. And, not just by The Blood. **I** take care of him. I’ve _raised_ him. I **love** him. We’re a family. Us two, and our Jimmy. And, **_you_**. You broke our family. The second you hooked up my sweet Jimmy like a car battery that needed jump starting, you broke him. The second you put me in a situation where I had to fuck up that Sandra bitch in front of the Kid, you broke us both. Now,” he, thoughtfully, tapped a slender finger against their lips, “what should be the penalty for that? Hmmm?... Now, I know how much ‘y’all’ love your capital punishment!”

  
His large, bright smile was quite insane.

But, before he could go any further, they all heard the house’s onboard computer activate: [Wel-come Home, Ms. Sim-mons]

And, Simmons’ mother was calling out.

Something about having brought home dinner.

Smelled like fried chicken and cheddar biscuits...

And, Richard _hissed_ like a furious cat denied its prey.

After all, he was hungry for something entirely different at the moment...

  
“R-Richard! Sh-She’s home! We’re screwed!,” Simmons whispered his voice cracking with fear.

But, their father, who had seemed to have been falling unconscious as Jimmy’s father once again had, was suddenly forcing lucidity. And, he reached weakly out to touch their arm.

“No, don’t- don’t- listen ta’ that useless… We can… can… Son, Richard, don’t-don’t leave, again… L-Love you, boy…”

“FUCK YOU, old man,” Richard growled furiously under their breath, “We both know why you ‘love’ ME, in particular, don’t we? You arrogant, self-loving, sick fuck!”

  
Um… wait. Now, that got Simmons both distracted _and_ confused. Why DID Father love Richard, in particular? Simmons had always thought it was because _he_ , himself, didn’t measure up, but… Richard was saying it was cause he was an “arrogant, self-loving, sick fuck”… What did… did that mean?

It wasn’t a part of-of all that creepy stuff Father and James had been talking about that Simmons was NOT prepared to think about right now… was it?

  
“Y’all c’mon, now. Food’s on the table. I, erm, already ate with Marianne… got it, uh, under control on that end for now, so I’m gonna go on an’ take a bath,” Simmons’ mother called to them, -sounding uncomfortable, and like she was desperate to pop something, and peace out for a while-, as she walked past the office door, her voice gradually fading.

“R-Richard,” As soon as she was out of earshot, Simmons spoke aloud, stammering terribly in his urgency. Which pissed him off. But, he couldn’t help it!, “L-Listen, I-I really th-think th-that-”

“Kid. Not, now,” Richard murmured. And, from what Simmons could gather, Richard seemed sure that Simmons was going to ‘lecture him on some _Thou shalt not kill_ crap’.

“R-Richard, LISTEN to me-”

[“Simmons, relax,” Richard attempted to pacify him. To speak to him internally and privately. Now, that he realized Simmons was there he could be capable of doing so, “This is all just a bad dream. It’s not real. Jimmy’s fine-”

“I know he is! That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

“Good. You’re a good boy, Richie.”  
  
“Stop that! Listen to me, Richard! Jimmy is NOT d-dead. They l-”  
  
“Of course he’s not,” Richard tried to soothe, though he sounded shaky, “He just m-moved away a- a long time ago…”]  
  
“NO! That’s not true!,” Simmons cried aloud.

But, before Richard could respond, -whether internally or otherwise-, Father- or… Simmons Senior… spoke up. It seemed that suddenly just the sound of Simmons’ so detested, “whiny, nerd” voice fueled the flames of their father’s extreme loathing, and he bit out, “You stupid, useless child. Shut- Shut the fuck up,” And, for some unknown reason, he rallied enough just so that he could adamantly add, “This here is all- ALL yer fault, Richie. That there lil’ girly-boy whore was _yer friend_ first-”

And, Richard narrowed their eyes as he advanced on their father, “ _Fucker_ ,” he whispered darkly, a cruel twist to their lips, “You don’t talk about my boys like that. And, what’d I say about the Kid? He’s MINE. MY blood. Not yours at all-”

“That don’t- don’t really make no sense, boy. James… guess he’s right ‘bout that… An’ even I said it before ta’... Anyway, whatever- whatever’s yours oughta technically be mine, too. Ya know- know that…”

  
Um. Fuck. That. Simmons didn’t have a clue what THIS was all about, now. Not, yet, anyhow. But, seriously- Fuck. That.

And, why was Father _arguing_ , again, instead of trying to clear things up? Where was his head at in all this?

  
Richard continued as if Father hadn’t spoken, “So, you don’t talk to the Kid, at all. You should’ve been nicer to him. And, to my sweet Jimmy. They’re the only reason you were all still here, you know? But….” That insane, psychotic smile, again, “but, _now_ …”

“Ya gone n’ lost yer damn mind! An’ all over some crossdressin’ lil faggot!,” their father sounded disgusted, but, also, exhausted, and… and, perhaps-perhaps… frightened.

“Heh,” Richard poked their pointer finger almost playfully against the dark circle under one of their father’s so, so blue, bright azure eyes (They always looked so… familiar to Simmons…), but when Richard spoke, it was to Simmons, “Time to take a little nap, now, Simmons. **I** love you- Your real Daddy loves you very- very much.”

“What? What’s that mea- Can you not say weird stuff like that, right no- No! W-Wait! Richard don’t- Listen, J-”

But, Richard was already pulling him down, pulling him away.

And, just like that he blanked it all from him.

 

He, even now, couldn’t tell you what had happened after that.

And, until that moment, other than troubling, disjointed flashes, Simmons had not remembered any of it.

So, Simmons… he didn’t get a chance to tell Richard. To tell him that there was hope. (Really much more than hope.) Hope that Simmons’ childhood best friend, and the one that Richard loved was, when all the pieces were put together, 100 times more likely than not, actually still alive and hidden away (Very likely with his sister [And, likely, his dog, too.], which was good cause at least she’d watch out for him, and do everything in her power to keep him safe.), rather than gone forever.

And, the next time Simmons woke up… he didn’t remember any of it… Hell, even, now, he only remembered this one moment, and…

And, when he awoke, again, he and Richard were on a city transit… but, Jimmy… Jimmy wasn’t with them…  


✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

  
  
Simmons gasped, clutching Grif even closer to him.

Grif grumbled, and shifted a bit. Squeezing him back, but staying fast asleep.

And, Simmons tried to stay as still as possible. Cause he really didn’t WANT Grif to wake up right now!

This was why these memories kept trying to fight their way to the surface! They were freaking important! It didn’t matter how traumatizing they were- and, of course, they were fucking traumatizing! This was- was-

RICHARD! What the fuck!

He’d been so out of his mind… he hadn’t heard… hadn’t even registered the possibility-

That wasn’t a possibility or simply a probable theory, but as Simmons had worked out all that time ago, -when all the available pieces were added together-, was simply a provable FACT. That just made logical _sense_. The assholes (Their fathers.) had all but SAID it was some shit-show setup!

Nonetheless, Simmons remembered so much, now. And, if there was one thing he could tell you that he couldn’t exactly before, -could write a frickin’ _dissertation_ on-, it was the dynamics and differing personalities of the people involved in all of this.

In particular, Simmons Senior.

And, Richard, who he could finally, in this moment, be allowed to entirely remember and know for who he’d been, and who he was.

In this memory that had just resurfaced, though… During this timeframe, Simmons hadn’t been remembering Richard as his brother. He hadn’t had any clear memory (That Richard would allow.) before Richard and Simmons came to be… whatever they were now. Not during that particular time. Not as completely and entirely as he did in this moment.

And, knowing and remembering Richard as he did, right now, he knew that his biggest flaw was that he acted based off emotion. Many times before he had the whole story or understood the circumstances regarding a situation. Simmons knew this… and so did Simmons Senior.

Simmons felt his anxiety start to ramp up. Felt his nerves winding tighter and tighter.

He was getting so fucking overwhelmed! These things weren’t all easily categorized or placed within particular classifications. They weren’t-!

Simmons forced himself to stop.

To focus on his breathing.

On Grif’s comforting, steady heartbeat.

Ba-bump… Ba-bump… In through the nose…. Ba-bump… Ba-bump… Ooout through the mouth… Ba-bump… Ba-bump… In through the nose…. Ba-bump… Ba-bump… Ooout through the mouth…

He had to- to… It was important that he try to stay calm. To not simply be his usual nervous, neurotic mess when he was overwhelmed.

Cause, you see… he had this… this feeling.

That this wasn’t the first time. Wasn’t the first time that he had remembered so much. At least, that it wasn’t the first time that he had remembered about Richard, and… and who he really was to him.

And, Simmons knew. He knew that he had to wake up Richard and tell him… tell him…

Fuck! Tell him first and foremost that he was _okay!_ Tell him not to do anything c-crazy! Not to jump the gun, and start simply re-blocking everything to “protect” Simmons before Simmons could even have a chance to TALK to him.

Simmons was desperately trying to get everything together in a clear enough, concise order so he could try to… it almost felt like _confront_ in a way.

Not that he wanted it to be that way!

But… after all, Richard HAD erased, tried to take away… so much from him… and even if he knew, KNEW unequivocally that he’d done it out of love, out of a desire to Protect… It didn’t change the fact that he had TAKEN something precious from him.

Not just memories of his best friend, and the extra, even if at times… difficult, years they’d had together.

But, himself. Richard had scratched out his own true self from Simmons, and…

He remembered now. He remembered how close, how _connected_ he and Richard had always been. Deeper and more than brothers. Like opposing sides of the same coin in so many ways.

And, from the memories of what Richard’s old girlfriend, Chrissy, had said, and what-what Senior and Jimmy’s dad had been talking about before… before Richard had… done whatever he’d done…

It almost seemed like-

Like Richard (Who looked identical to their father.), Simmons (Who looked like a mix between Richard/Senior, and his so pretty mother.), and Jimmy (Who, Holy fuck, he’d never really let himself realize before he had in this memory, but just as Richard looked exactly like Father, Jimmy looked exactly like his own father, James Senior.), the three of them they- they weren’t like other people.

When he’d been a kid, Simmons had wanted to think that it was just Richard that was “different”, but…

An “asset”.

That’s what Jimmy’s dad had called Simmons… Simmons’d thought he was sticking up for him- that he cared at least a little bit… That he’d been trying to defend his son’s best friend even then…

And, maybe, in a way he had been. After all those years… James obviously knew how one had to talk to Senior to have any chance of garnering his attention.

The truth was that he’d always been nicer than Father could ever be.

Not that THAT was difficult.

And, he’d never had a problem with Simmons (Or, “Richie” as they called him.) living part of the week, every week, over at his house. Not that Simmons could remember, anyway.

But… that wasn’t really the point right now was it? At a time like this… The real truth was that when you took what those who had obviously been “in the know” had said, individually and to each other… it almost seemed like… almost sounded as if… as if Simmons had come more from _Richard_ than their father…

Makes his whole calling him “Kid” thing a little… suspect.

Did he know? I mean, if such a thing could be true, of course, which it so obviously wasn’t- It couldn’t be- It had to be impossible!… It didn’t- It didn’t… I mean, c’mon… sure. He’d been thinking about some, uh… things like this a bit ago. About all the technological and medical advances, and the-the dangers of illegal or unsanctioned ex-experimen-men--mentation but-

But, fuck that! It wasn’t like- It wasn’t like-like the three of them (Were they even the only ones?)- like they’d been born in a lab!

Like- Like LAB RATS! Experimented on, messed with, added to, _changed!_

They **hadn’t** been.

…Right?

…I-I mean, they bled, they cried, they-they- oh-oh, what did it mean? What did it **mean**?

What was Simmons? What were THEY? All three of them…

Okay-Okay. He had to “chill the fuck out”, as Grif would say. Think about something else before he got too totally flipped out and Richard…

Simmons curled tighter around Grif, and this time the other man mumbled a little in his sleep. It was unintelligible, but it still helped to calm the redhead down.

He didn’t know exactly what it was about Grif, but… just being around him… it helped.

Simmons let out a calming breath.

Alright.

Everything was going to be alright. Everything was going to be ok-

“Simmons!,” A voice called boisterously, “Where you at, son?”

Simmons’ head popped up like a little prairie dog’s.

_Sarge._

He was calling for him! He needed his help! Simmons was instantly seconds from jumping out of the bunk, and heading straight to his CO (Who had somehow turned into a father figure to him much to Richard’s annoyance.)… when his eyes happened to glance over for some reason to the bunkside dresser…

To the _beers_ that were sitting there so innocently as if it was **totally** okay for them to be there-

And, Simmons’ mind jumped ahead ten spaces.

Contraband!

Illegal contraband!

Right out in the fucking open!

HolyFuckHolyFuckHolyFuck! He’d been so wrapped up in trying to FIX everything, in trying to find the answers so they could ALL be happy… that he kind of- No. He’d TOTALLY forgotten _where_ the fuck they even were!

As in Blood Gulch. With not just Grif, but the rest of Red Team, and Blue Team, and the War, and _Sarge_.

And, he and Richard may be out from under their father, the compound, the Church, the community, the-the… the other creepy stuff.… But, they were still not exactly FREE. As in they couldn’t just do what they wanted, when they wanted, with who they wa-

Oh shit.

Simmons slowly laid his head back down onto its safe place on Grif’s chest. He tilted his chin up, and just… just looked up at Grif’s still, somehow, peacefully sleeping, completely unaware face.

Man, this fucker’s a heavy sleeper.

“Oh, Simmmooonnss…” Sarge called as he marched right past Grif’s freaking door.

Simmons was now frozen in place. As if he’d decided that Sarge was like a T-rex.

He tracks mainly on movement!

“Yoohoo! Now where’d he be hidin’? Hmm… Better not be fraternizin’ with any enemies a’ the orange variety right before our glorious victory ‘gainst those dastardly Blues!” Sarge boomed out as he passed by the door _again_.

They were going to be caught.

**Sarge** was going to catch them.

The level of unfairness was fucking _astronomical._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added note: I wanted to mention that this may sound very extreme, but, honestly, the level of cruelty, the hypocrisy, the life-damaging _lies_ some of these people are capable of is truly astounding. And, the power they have to shape what is and isn't "truth", when they control an entire community of people and so many people in positions of power within a particular area can be truly frightening.
> 
> Please check the Tags next Chapter. Some shit’s gonna start going down in the next chapter. I was trying to ease into the violence involved here due to that. Next chapter is, also, the first time you will see the relationship (platonic) between Grif and Richard really start to take shape. It, uh, may have a little bit of a rocky start?... But, some platonic fluff, as well.
> 
> Also, when we get to Richard’s memories of the camp, what was done to them, what he did to “Sandra” at the camp (That Simmons was present for, but is doubly blocked and repressed by Richard and Simmons himself.), what happened between Richard and Jimmy’s parents at their house directly before the camp (That James mentioned.), some scenes with Grif and Richard next chapter, and so on and so forth, more of what Richard is capable of will start to be more clear.
> 
> Did you catch any mentions of characters we know and their possible connections to the Simmons family? There were two of them. One individual, and another mentioned through a family name.
> 
> Remember that the memory in this chapter was Simmons’. One that Richard has never accessed. Simmons, on the other hand, has been given glimpses into Richard’s memory of when he actually physically attacked their father and Jimmy’s, but Richard has always repressed these memories, again. Ch. 13 mentions Simmons remembering and snippets of memory that Richard had thought about, and unknowingly exposed him to before re-blocking them: “ _After all, hadn’t their father and Jimmy’s father thought Richard was just refilling their glasses with b-bourbon right up until the crystal decanter had s-sm-smashed into the side of J-Jimmy’s fa-father’s head. And, even after- even after, with blood and bourbon splashed across father’s mahogany desk… their drunken father didn’t- he didn’t- he still didn’t believe he’d do- he’d do it... Not- Not to him…_ ”
> 
> (Moved to End Notes) Something that is briefly addressed in this AU is a fact that is based off an absolute real state of events. It would likely shock some people if they knew how deeply embedded individuals belonging to particular religious groups are within... a lot of things. Government letter organizations, the space program, certain parts of the medical field, research of all types- The list goes on and on. People that grew up around this know this, and take it as a given, but "outsiders" (And, hey, I'm labeled one, too, now! And, damn proud of it.), as they're thought of, are at times much less aware of who's in bed with who within the political, federal, state, religious, etc. arenas/underground communities. Anyway, that's just a little background as I really believe this will likely only get worse. Many of these people are very easily controlled as they'll do whatever the Church orders, and if the top leaders (Who, I swear, from my experience, the higher up they are, the less they actually believe in what they supposedly stand for, and simply use the rhetoric as a means of control.)- if these leaders are in bed with government agencies... well, it just has all the makings for a lot of nasty, unfortunate situations.
> 
>  
> 
> Character Family Breakdowns For This Chapter:
> 
> Simmons Family
> 
> Richard Simmons Senior: aka Senior, Rich, Old Man (By Richard)  
> Name Currently Undisclosed: aka Richie/Simmons mother, Ms./Mrs. Simmons  
> Name Currently Undisclosed: aka Richard’s mother, Em, mad scientist  
> Richard Simmons Junior: known as Richard, currently functioning as Richie’s/Simmons’ Alter  
> Richard Simmons the III: aka Richie, Simmons, the Kid
> 
>    
> Jaquette Family
> 
> James Jaquette: aka Jimmy’s father, Senior’s oldest friend and confidante  
> Marianne Jaquette: aka Jimmy & Jackie's mother  
> Jacqueline Jaquette: aka Jackie, Jimmy’s older sister, old friend (platonic) of Richard’s  
> James Jaquette Junior: aka Jimmy, Raven, Jimmy Bean, Triple J
> 
>    
> I hope all of you are well! Much Love! ♡–MissyAnn❀


	21. Doesn’t Richard Take Care Of This For Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But… that brought them to the next point on the list. And, it was a pretty huge one, if he was being honest. It might be something that Simmons hadn’t yet been in a mental place to state out loud… but it didn’t make it any less true!
> 
> It, um… b-basically boiled down to… to… the fact that… well…
> 
> Look, Richard had just _better_ fucking understand that they were NOT ever leaving Grif behind at this point.
> 
> No fucking way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Hero Donut!, Speak Simmons Speak!, Too much-Too Fast, Dobermans' Rock, Richard-You Been Slackin’, Someone’s running on E (Empty not Ecstasy, for fuck’s sake!), He’s just a lil’ Simmons in a Big Big World!, But, Richaaard, can't we keep him? He just sleeps all day anyway!
> 
> I’m sorry it took me so long to post! I've been having internet issues, I had an insane late-start class, and then Finals – I got all A’s, though, so at least my busting ass paid off!
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is shorter than I normally put up anymore (As my chapters are freaking huge.), but I wanted to get this up so I can really focus on polishing something between Grif and Richard that is in-between the next 23,000+ words that are completely completed! There’s a lot going on in the next couple chapters, and a lot of the questions that are likely brought up in this chapter will start to be answered within the next few chapters.
> 
> Please see End Notes for more info.
> 
>  

_“Oh, Simmmooonnss…” Sarge called as he marched right past Grif’s freaking door._

_Simmons was now frozen in place. As if he’d decided that Sarge was like a T-rex._

_He tracks mainly on movement!_

_“Yoohoo! Now why’d he be hidin’? Hmm… Better not be fraternizin’ with any enemies a’ the orange variety right before our glorious victory ‘gainst those dastardly Blues!,” Sarge boomed out as he passed by the door **again**._

_They were going to be caught._

_**Sarge** was going to catch them. _

_The level of unfairness was fucking **astronomical.** _  
  
  
Whhhyyy was this even happening!

And, why the fuck NOW of all times in the world. (He felt like he’d thought that a million times. That he’d think it a million more…)

Simmons had JUST rediscovered the truth about Richard and their real connection to each other, about who he really… somehow… who he really was to him… He’d remembered some _very_ fucking important things that Richard, -who was constantly now on that razor’s edge between desperate delusion and insanity-, urgently **needed** to know, AND Simmons and Grif were FINALLY together-  
  
  
-Oh my… Son of a bitch… Was that really true? W-Were they? Were they r-really-  
  
  
Yes.

He… guessed they were… Right?-  
  
  
AND, on top of all that, he’d remembered some pretty terrifying possible things that Father & Jimmy’s father had revealed (Well, due to Simmons’ superior eavesdropping skills.) about his, and Richard’s, and Jimmy’s possible… origins and interwined connections, he supposed?  
  
  
It had been a hell of a past couple of hours, lemme tell you!  
  
  
With Simmons actually being able to begin to really break through so many blocks, and start to remember the truth- or some of it, at least-, about how things had actually been… And, about how he’d been with Richard, and his best friend that he’d grown up with, -and that Richard loved-, through it all-

And, holy fuck, let’s not forget about the- the fact that Richard seemed to have been fooled into believing Jimmy was… that he’d…

But, wh-whatever. There was **no** point freaking the fuck out about the idea of that in particular, because Jimmy was obviously alive. Everything Simmons had heard and pieced together confirmed it. But, as said before, Richard… he had been too far gone, too incapable of LISTENING to understand, and he’d- he’d…

Father and-and James…

Richard… he might have…   
  
  
Simmons remembered now, how after he’d enlisted them, how Richard had said he “hadn’t _actually **killed** either of those old cocksuckers, even after what they did to him, what they did to the two of us_ …” because he’d _promised him I wouldn’t ”_ , hadn’t he?...

-But, you obviously couldn’t always trust what Richard said. Not just due to his over-blown overprotectiveness, but due to the fact that the dude wasn’t even honest with HIMSELF all of the time-

Now, with things so much clearer than they had been previously, Simmons assumed that it was Jimmy that Richard had promised not to-to… kill… anyone…a-any…

Was it anyone… else?

Because it sure seemed like the-

The memory of blood and violence- 

It didn’t seem to only be connected to that one time of BourbonandBlood.

Simmons could swear that there’d been-

Other… instances…

Like… for example… at the-the camp-  
  
  
But, it was too fucking HARD to remember at the moment. The kind of thing that made Simmons’ head start to viciously pound in warning the more he tried to force it to the surface, and Simmons wasn’t capable of _dealing_ with that shit. Not with how-

Tired he was. How incredibly-…  
  
Hollow he was beginning to feel.  
  
  
_Getting too fucking empty, empty. Just needed a little zing. Just a sip. Even the tiniest zap of-of-_  
  
  
“Simmmooons… Got some paaaperwork fer ya!,” Sarge loudly tempted.

Fuck! Why did Simmons KEEP forgetting about Sarge lurking about?!  
  
  
_**Richard** didn’t forget about Sarge, though, did he? Especially when they were getting like… this… when they needed… needed… After all, Red Leader was always-always naturally so-SO… topped off. A perfect-perfect previously untapped reservoir. Always ripe for-for- And, so quick to regen with no real… unpleasant repercussions… _  
  
  
NO! That was- Simmons **knew** he wasn’t allowed to-to… Well, let’s just say that even at this point where he didn’t _quite_ get what was going on, Simmons was pretty fucking sure Richard didn’t want him to be digging into… this kind of… He was damn sure that he wasn’t allowed to be grabbing ahold of any of these- _these_ types of s-secrets and that he…  
  
  
Wait-  
  
  
Did Sarge say something about paperwork?

But, before Simmons could be lured away by the siren call of _productivity_ , he heard-  
  
  
“Heeeeyyyy, Sarge! What’re you doing outta bed?! You’re not s’pposed ta’ be coming out until 0800! Did you forget about the plan we made?- *GASP* And, where’s your bottle of grenadine? Did you stick it in your-”

“Do-nut,” Sarge warned.

“Come. On. Sarge! We had a great plan! Against the BLUES. Why are we _bothering_ to set up plans of attack, if SOME of us aren’t even going to follow through with the pre-battle royale aesthetics?”

“…That don’t make no sense, Pinky,” Spoken through obviously gritted teeth.

“Are-Are we just… not… at war, anymore?,” Donut did a great job of sounding honestly befuddled. Well, either that or he was really an idiot.

“Whas’ that, now?!”

“Oh, oh! Should I go start making friendship bracelets, and setting up Saturday scrabble nights, and-?!”  
  
  
Yep. Definitely an idiot. But, kinda a genius idiot.

Like their idiot was waaaay better than Blue Team’s idiot, ya know?

And, _just_ as unkillable.

So-  
  
  
Suck it, Blue.  
  
  
“-Annnnd, I could bake them some BFFL cookies, and some POV double-glazed donut holes-”

“Dooonut.” Oh, Sarge was getting _pissed_.

“Hey! They’ll compliment the peace talks perfectly! _Everyone_ loves a good ol’ Boy Friends For Life sweet cookie n’ a re-affirmative Proof Of Value donut hole dripping with _double_ the- Sarge? Where’re you going?”

“What? I, uh, can’t hear ya, son,” Simmons could actually hear Sarge’s voice getting farther away, “I got a… a… some-some kinda cockamamie scheme involving blue jay feathers an’ grenadine n’ NOT bein’ here talkin’ to you ta’ follow… Ya know, Red Team business- Killin’ Blues- Plottin’ orange soldier’s ultimate sacrifice-”

“Oh, yeaaaah. That’s a greaaate idea! So I’ll see ya later, then, Sarge! Sweet Dre-eeeams!,” Donut sang out to Sarge’s retreating, though still grumbling, form. After, a moment of silence, the lightish Red soldier giggled softly, and asked through the door, “Is Grif asleep?”

As in, ‘Is he asleep, AND did he seriously sleep through all that?’

Simmons thought of not saying anything… I-I mean, what made Donut so sure Simmons was still even in Grif’s room to be asking him stuff, huh?!

But…

“Y-Yeah…” he sighed loudly, looking at Grif’s seriously ridiculously STILL peacefully slumbering face.

For a split second, he felt like smacking the hell outta him for being so damn chill in the midst of all of Simmons’ own stress.

Of course, when he came to understand that it was actually _his_ presence beside him, and-and  in his arms that caused Grif to be capable of sleeping so deeply and serenely… without nightmares and waking up in the grip of terror due to past traumas experienced and seen… He’d feel like a real asshole.

Donut laughed a little… and, then, startled Simmons by calling cheerily as he himself retreated from the door, “Annnywaaay… yooou’re welcome, Brother!”  
  
  
……

What?

Why did he-

Why would he say-?…  
  
  
But…

But, right at that moment, despite the strange thing Donut had said…  
  
  
-And, Donut said strange things A LOT sooo-  
  
  
It **really** hit Simmons.

Donut had gotten Sarge away. He’d- They-  
  
  
They weren’t going to be caught!  
  
  
The sheer release of tension should’ve been nearly orgasmic.

But…

Fuck! Simmons couldn’t really appreciate it with how freaking tired he still was…  
Just so damn… drained.  
  
  
He wasn’t even aware of it when his fingers slipped around Grif’s wrist, even as he pressed his head more firmly against his chest-

Finding that pulse point, and that _beat-beat-beat_. That energy, that life, that…  
  
  
Oh my fuck, was Simmons softly _whining ?_  
  
  
Yeah. He sure as fuck was.

He couldn’t HELP it!

It’d all been too damn much. It’d all taken too much outta him, and he was just so, so, so-  
  
  
_Hungry_. Fucking **starving** , totally-  
  
  
But, was it really _hungry_ exactly? Was that what… what it would be called?

I mean, **technically** , his stomach WAS full, and not- not precisely the cause of… this-this-  
  
  
Really almost empty, hollow feeling… Like running on fucking fumes… or broken pulses of-…  
  
  
Ohhhhh, fuuuuck! He didn’t know! Richard was the one that took care of all of this… stuff… whatever it was… for them! Simmons was remembering THAT much at least. But, _he_ didn’t know- He didn’t quite remember what to- how to-… what was going on.

And, now, he was really worried. How was he even supposed to talk to Richard about everything if he was so-  
  
  
_* Yaaawwwnnn *_  
  
  
Ah sh-shit! Please… He couldn’t… He needed to stay… stay awake…

But, his eyes were so heavy, and Richard was so deeply and peacefully asleep.  
  
  
And, here Simmons was still so… fucked up from that endless sensory memory… that had come back to haunt him… over and over again-

BourbonandBloodBourbonand-

But… in that particular moment… it wasn’t really the memory of-of Father or Jimmy’s father and what had happened- what Richard had ultimately done or hadn’t done… which Simmons still wasn’t sure which was which…  
  
  
As fucked up as this sounds?  
  
  
It wasn’t that that burned, that ate a hole right into him.

No. What ate at him, what _tore_ at him, -as he attempted to wake up enough to try to wake _Richard_ up-, was that that moment… when Richard had done… whatever he’d done to Father and James…

That had been the last moment where Simmons had still known… known who his- his **true** family had always been.

Known Richard as more than simply a dark side of his own psyche.

Even if he’d so rarely been allowed to know him as his brother or… more… as his “Blood”-

Whatever THAT meant…

He’d at the very least known Richard as _himself_. As Richard.

And, he’d known Jimmy as what he’d really been to him, too.

More than a childhood or simply a best friend that had “moved away”.

No.

He’d actually known him as the brother, the near parent, and the comfort that he’d really been. Who had helped keep Simmons, himself, sane all along, and who was the only one that could accomplish that all important task of keeping Richard on a more even keel.

-Then, could’ve ever been accomplished without him, anyway-

_Especially_ , as they’d gotten older, and things had gotten periodically… so very bad.  
  
  
Yes, Simmons had known, at least much of the time, up until that moment of BourbonandBlood that Richard, Jimmy… that they’d BOTH been there with him.  
  
  
His family.  
  
  
And, as Simmons laid there wrapped so very tightly around Grif…

-Barely holding on to consciousness-

And, -even if he didn’t acknowledge it right then-, using the Hawaiian as an anchor…  
  
  
Weeks, and months, and years’ worth of repressed pinpointed moments came back to life-  
  
  
And, he realized that, yes… up until that moment, he’d still known about those times. Those many, many times that, now, flashed through his mending yet still so shattered memories.  
  
  
He saw those late, late nights or early mornings in a dimly lit room that had not been his own or Jimmy’s before they’d… before the cam-…

Because-Because they… they’d moved into- into Richard’s room, and Jackie’s at Jimmy’s house when Richard and F-Father had… brought them back…  
  
  
And, seeing those rooms- that had been _their_ rooms, now, so very clearly-  
  
  
All at once, even in his half-lucid state, Simmons was able to recall those countless nights or early mornings so very vividly that they could’ve happened moments earlier…

He remembered all the times that Jimmy’s tears had slipped into his bright, but nightmare- tousled red hair as the smaller boy had hugged him to his chest and smoothed a trembling hand down his disheveled strands… when Simmons had woken up clinging desperately to the other boy’s waist.  
  
  
Weeping, or crying out, or pleading, or all three… for unknown reasons that Richard and the now mostly silent Jimmy guarded so close.  
  
  
And, he remembered how Jimmy had hummed those familiar melodies, those sweet tunes from the little duets that the two of them had secretly played together for so many years on Jimmy’s piano (Despite Father having forbidden such things due their likelihood of further “pussifyin’ the fags in the lineage.”)… Jimmy humming softly as he’d held him to his heart, his own tear-stained face buried into Simmons’ shiny red locks…

Pushing aside his own pain… Holding him and comforting him as if he were actually his own mother…

In spirit if in nothing else.  
  
  
It may all seem so perverse-

When taking Richard and Jimmy’s relationship that had had to be physically manifested through the body that’d now belonged to both Simmons and Richard both into account…

But, remember that this was the hand they’d been dealt. And, with how truly they loved each other, in such different ways, all they could do was play the cards they’d been given.

As every sorry son of a bitch out there has to fuckin’ learn to do...  
  
  
*Sigh*…  
  
  
But, anyway, so he HAD known. Known that Jimmy had been there all along. Helping him through something too terrible for him to be allowed to recall. Holding him, and rubbing his back soothingly as he’d wept into his shirt…  
  
  
And, then, Richard had always been there. Wrapping his/their arms around them both. Whispering, “It’s okay, it’s alright. We’re safe, now. I’ll keep us safe. I love you, I love you.” Or “My good boys, it’s alright. You can cry, now. It’s okay. No one else will see, no one else will know. I love you, I love you.”

No matter what he said to Simmons and Jimmy during those times, in what form or fashion, those things were always the same.

_It’s okay… it’s alright._

And-

_I love you, I love you._

Said twice. As if for both of them.  
  
  
Why…  
  
  
As these missing pieces realigned themselves, all Simmons could wonder was WHY?

Why had Richard played so many games with Simmons’ memories? Why had he, as Simmons remembered now, blanked Jimmy from him even during particular times when they’d all still been together?

(Had things really gotten THAT bad?)

Only to then allow them to all be together again as if… as if whatever horrors Richard and Jimmy were working through had subsided enough to allow “the Kid” to join them, again…

Did it have… It _must_ have something to do with the horrific nightmares Simmons suffered (And, oh, he **would** call it suffered. Even if he couldn’t, or wasn’t allowed to recall them.), or with whatever had happened, -that was so obviously connected-, that had left Jimmy… mostly silent with tremors in his hands more often than not it seemed…  
  
  
But, still…

HOW?!?! How did Richard have **that** much power? The power to convince Simmons of things that- that were _incorrect_.

How could he erase and recreate SO freaking much?

After all, Simmons, now, realized that the three of them, -himself, Richard, and Jimmy-, had lived together for **years**. Of course, over the weekends before… before-

But, especially AFTER. During that whole timeframe where Richard claimed Jimmy’d “moved away”…

He hadn’t moved away!

They’d lived together for fuck’s sake! Spent, not just the weekends, anymore, but _every_ single day and night together between their two houses-

Well, every day n’ night except the ones Richard and Simmons had had to go… do… something… for Father…

But, even then, Jimmy would be waiting for them. Being watched over sometimes by Jackie if she could manage it, but _always_ by Malik, who Richard had trained very specifically, and seemed to connect and communicate with on a deeper level then made ANY fucking sense-  
  
  
Jesus-  
  
  
Malik. Their freaking _dog_. He’d really been all of theirs, not just Jimmy’s… It just blew his fucking mind… How could Simmons have **completely** forgotten, up until this night of revelations, about the very existence of their huge as fuck Doberman who’d been with them for actual years?

He wasn’t exactly very “forgettable”, either.

Not just because he’d been pretty frickin’ awesome, an’ loyal as all hell, but he really was just… BIG.

…He’d been such a deceptively little puppy, too.

Simmons was SURE that Father regretted being so blasé about the idea when Richard had _demanded_ that he be allowed to ensure Jimmy’s safety while they were out… doing the… “…work”?...  
  
  
Oh, this was too fucking much. The memories were starting to trickle in faster and faster, and the more he remembered, the more he realized just how much he still had no clue about, and-

He was getting Very. Fucking. Anxious. And. Annoyed.

Of course, he was happy as fuck at the idea of having Richard back for real, and of getting to clear shit up, and try to figure out how to re-connect their family! And, he swore he WAS trying to not let himself get too wrapped up in analyzing all this to death while he was still so out of it, but-

He simply didn’t understand! What was he a goddamn _baby_ or some shit? Why had so damn much been tucked and hidden away from him?! How bad could it really be?

If he wasn’t so freaking tired, he’d-he’d…  
  
  
Ohhh, shit. He shouldn’t have reminded himself of how nearly tapped out he was…

Just admitting to that made him have to slow WAY the fuck down. It made him realize that he needed to bullet point some a’ this shit before he knocked the fuck out.  
  
  
He just hoped Richard didn’t wake up before he got some main points straight in his head…  
  
  
First of all, he had to concede to some things that were as factual as they were important.

Like the fact that Richard would just instantly want to go AWOL when he knew what Simmons knew about what had happened and been revealed that night.  
  
  
And… And, even though that was SO against everything that Simmons could ever imagine…

Considering the situation… and how long it had been… they really did need to figure out where Jimmy was.

It was a frightening thought.

Because, let’s face it. If, -as Father and James had unknowingly admitted-, Jimmy had been hidden away in order to drive Richard insane, so he’d do the “hard work”-  
  
  
_*Shudder*_ -  
  
  
Then, all Simmons could hope was that he definitely HAD been with his sister. That way when Richard had lost it and directed his rage toward, uh… unintended targets in the form of Father and Jimmy’s father… Hopefully, Jimmy’s sister had taken him and fucking _bailed_. Hid him and herself away so they didn’t pay the price for Richard’s “sins” when the Church leaders couldn’t find him to “correct”.  
  
  
Even if he hadn’t k-killed Father or James- Even physically attacking them in such an… extreme manner… was enough to warrant terrifying consequences.  
  
  
So, yeah, hopefully Jimmy’d been, and still was, with Jackie and Malik. Simmons knew that Richard trusted her. Well, them both really.

But, regardless of whatever the situation had been, Simmons knew Richard would do anything to get back to him, to make sure he was alright, and to have him back again… And, Jimmy was fucking _family_ , he was a part of them, and had been for all those years (And, mother fuck, Richard’s trying to hide that from Simmons, as he had also hidden his own true self, -even if it had been to “protect” him-, was starting to _seriously_ piss him off!), so obviously Simmons agreed with the need to find him and have him back.  
  
  
But… that brought them to the next point on the list. And, it was a pretty huge one, if he was being honest. It might be something that Simmons hadn’t yet been in a mental place to state out loud… but it didn’t make it any less true!

It, um… b-basically boiled down to… to… the fact that… well…

Look, Richard had just _better_ fucking understand that they were NOT ever leaving Grif behind at this point.

No fucking way.

Sure, it HURT to think of having to leave Sarge, and even Donut, and… well, fuck, even _Lopez_ , in a weird way, but… Grif? No. No way in hell. It was impossible.

Of course this meant he was going to have to-to really tell Grif about-about Richard.

Fuck.  
  
  
He didn’t really have a choice, though! The second Richard knew what he’d been too out of his mind with grief and rage to comprehend, -that Father had been playing a twisted trick to goad him into doing something obviously beyond merely unethical-, he was going to be all action.

Simmons knew how he operated.

And, with how much Simmons preferred to analyze everything first from every angle before even _dreaming_ of jumping headfirst into anything… it drove him fuckin’ nuts!

So Simmons was going to have to…  
  
  
Shit… maybe, he actually needed to tell Grif first _before_ talking to Richard? That way Richard wouldn’t have a chance to just steal the first supply shuttle, and-  
  
  
Oh, wait! Grif was a great driver, r-right? Right! Maybe he could like… pilot things, too? (The two things really weren’t very related, but bear with him. He was feeling a little desperate.)

And, then, Simmons could like market him to Richard as a total asset!

He could be all, ‘ _Nooo_ , Richard. It’s not like I wanna bring along this lazy fatass cause I’m in **love** with his dumb ass or anything! He simply has serviceable skills that we can utilize-”

Ah, dammit. Who was he kidding. Richard was totally going to know.  
  
  
And, Simmons guessed… well, he obviously _needed_ to know. He DID remember what “Dream Grif”, or whatever, had said, after all…  
  
  
_“You know what could happen, right? If you don’t say anything? If you keep a secret this fuckin’ big from someone this close to you? You get it, right? The chance you’re taking?”_  
  
  
It had seemed like he’d been talking about keeping shit from the actual real _Grif_ himself, but… that was the kind of advice that could extend and apply to anyone that you were exceeding close with.

And, there was no one that Simmons was closer to day to day than Richard.  
  
  
It was all so frightening, though, because… Richard HAD to be willing to listen, and to let go of some control for anything to get better. He had to take a fucking chance and trust someone else. Trust _Simmons_. Trust him and allow him to help like he should’ve-  
  
  
_*Yaaawwwnnn*_  
  
  
-sh-should-‘ve long ago... Instead of… of clinging so tightly to this “protector” role that- that… now… that now-…  
  
  
......  
  
  
And, wouldn’t you know it? Just like _that_ , like flipping a switch, or your laptop going into sleep mode… Simmons was **out**.  
  
  
His obsession with thinking things to death instead of taking action causing him to pass out without getting the chance to set Richard straight off the bat, and to take the reins as he so badly needed to.  
  
  
He’d be so pissed at himself later. Wondering if he’d _really_ been trying to line everything up in a more concise manner before talking to Richard…  
  
  
Or, if he’d simply subconsciously been too afraid of finding out what all this meant.

Of finding out who or what they really were, of what had happened to make Richard now be with him like this, of what had happened at-at the CAMP to him, to Richard, and to Jimmy (Who actually had visually evident remnants of it all that could not be ignored…), of what Richard and now Simmons had been made to do- of what the “hard work” was…

Simmons would always wonder if he’d been so busy with internally pussing the fuck out…  
  
  
-About everything. The idea of _really_ being with Grif, regardless of how much he really did want to be with him, included-  
  
  
That it was HIM that had really fucked shit up so badly.

After all, as said before, Simmons was perfectly capable of sabotaging himself…  
  
  
And, of course, as the Simmons brothers had shit luck more often than not anymore, it probably doesn’t come as any surprise to know, that within the space of no more than several sluggish heartbeats of Simmons falling into that deep, deep sleep…

Richard, -as wrapped around Grif as Simmons had been when he finally shut down-… began to stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If some of the things Simmons is thinking and feeling seem confusing, that is because he currently does not understand everything that is going on.
> 
> Richard’s viewpoint and memories in the next couple chapters will finally start to clear some of this stuff up, and we will see a time that Richard, within the story thus far, actually admits to himself who they all are, an’ where they came from, some of what he can do and needs to do, and some of what went down in the “facility” when they were little. Also, more information about Richard’s mother “Em” and her involvement is incoming. Yes, Richard DOES remember these things when he allows himself to.
> 
> Also, some semi-public NSFW within a memory, and a view into how Simmons, Richard, and Jimmy’s lives together worked on a daily basis. At… school or “The Academy”, for instance… HeeHee ;P… I’m excited about the next couple chapters (Which will actually be up in a timely manner this time!).
> 
> Thank you SO much for your patience, and I hope you all are well!  
> ♡–MissyAnn❀
> 
>  


	22. So Hungry For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, Richard was lifting Grif’s hand, -that in the darkness around and within his mind he truly believed to be Jimmy’s-, up to his lips.
> 
> Kissing his fingertips ever so gently.
> 
> “Raven,” he whispered into the quiet of the suddenly so dark room.
> 
> Only a soft hum in response.
> 
> “My sweet baby… I missed you,” Richard’s voice was hardly audible as his fingers slid up an arm too beefy, too strong to have ever belonged to one so small and delicate.
> 
> _A wince. A moment of near realization frantically pushed away._
> 
> And, he was breathing him in.
> 
> The smell of his satin smooth skin was always so…
> 
> Intoxicating.
> 
> Exquisite.
> 
> But… wait…
> 
> That wasn’t the sweet scent of cinnamon and Christmas…
> 
> A soft suspicious growl escaped Richard as his eyes narrowed into slits…
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ADDED NOTE 6/24*: A lot's been going on this week! Still been having some internet and other issues that I'm working on. But, the next chapter should be up sooner rather than later this coming week, and it'll be a long one to make up for it! Sorry, guys! You know how life can get! Hope you're all well!
> 
> NOTES: Tags: Referenced/Mentioned Repeated Drug Use, Broken Boys, Mental Illness, Life After Camp, Forced Use of Abilities, Fallout From “Miscalculation”, It Wasn’t the Ki- Simmons’ Fault, Dammit! , Senior’s still the Devil, Secret Linking, Mistaken Identity, What’s that Damn Beeping!, Insensitive/Offensive Language/Terminology, First Real Glimpse of Richard’s “Other Side”
> 
> My internet's been out off and on for weeks, and now, since the tech finally came out... it's even worse! #smalltownbusinessmonopolyproblems
> 
> Please forgive any possible editing issues. I have to get this up before my internet goes out again!  
> 

_And, of course, as the Simmons brothers had shit luck more often than not anymore, it probably doesn’t come as any surprise to know, that within the space of no more than several sluggish heartbeats of Simmons falling into that deep, deep sleep…_

_Richard, -as wrapped around Grif as Simmons had been when he finally shut down-… began to stir._

 

That echoing hunger, that need for a little _boost_ was simply too strong to continue to sleep through.

 

And, yet, Richard was still so fucking… _unaware_ of anything involving what or when or WHO…

 

The only thing that he could distantly think… in this moment of forgetting time and space… was that this must be another one of those many aftermaths of him having had to do something seriously messed up.

-And-And, with the Kid… with his-with his-… the Kid, now-… Oh, for Christ’s sake, with the Kid!-  
  
  
So… he just assumed… he believed that this was probably one more night of him having had blanked whatever was needed from Simmons. Tucking him safely -elsewhere- into sleep…

And, then, coming back home to his Jimmy.

All fucked in the head, and desperate, and trashed, again.

Richard was always at his absolute worst, his most confused, and insistent about not accepting what the hell was going on, -and who the hell he really was-, when he (Or, even worse, sometimes, now… _they_ …) had done things that he couldn’t bear to accept or take responsibility for…

But… nevertheless, he always came home.

-Well… to what home was now. Which was wherever they three were together-

He came right back and crawled into bed with the one who accepted him and Richie- uh, Simmons, no matter what condition they were in. He always hurried back to him the second they could… escape the scene.  
  
  
Though, maybe… when it’d been a real… real bad one… If the Kid was asleep- wasn’t presently with him to be _further_ corrupted…

_And, he never let him be there for the **real** … messy ones… Not after that first time. He’d fake the Kid’s presence if he really had to. After all, he’d been “being Richie” for years. He could fuckin’ replicate his mannerisms well enough…_

So… if it’d been fucking awful enough… then… then, yeah, he’d-he’d pause, -take a momentary detour-, to take what was offered (Not the goddamn chicks anymore, dammit!), and get a little amped or stoned just like back in the day… At least, unlike before, it hardly took anything to get him fucked up…

Just so he could survive having to truly be _Richard_ , again, and having to go back to doing what Richard was expected to do if he wanted their little triad to be kept intact. If he wanted **them** to stay off their backs, and…  and… back in the day… off his mother’s back, too.   
  
  
It DID shame him to admit it… that, sometimes, he’d gotten fucked up after the time out in the field… But, his _need_ to self-destruct after such… undesirable activities… it had to be eased somehow.

And, yes, Richard was well aware of what a damn hypocrite he was to yell at Jimmy about those times when him and the Kid were… out, and his sister Jackie couldn’t get away to be with him… about how without the distraction, he’d get so worried and depressed that sometimes he popped pills and drank… But, it was different when he did it! Jimmy had serious health… issues, now, for fuck’s sake!  
  
  
Regardless of all that, though… no matter what the case… even if he was infuriated at the idea of Jimmy being chancy with his precious life… even if Richard, himself, did steal a moment to take a “little something” to ease the self-loathing, the fucking RAGE, -too far gone to even realize that he was no longer in a body that was just his own to pollute-, he’d never failed to go straight back to his Raven as soon as he could manage it.  
  
  
He’d walk right back into that house, and start up the stairs (Jimmy always isolated himself in their room at his house when Richard and Simmons were… out.) without a single word to anyone.

Despite, -if she was there-, Jackie’s trying to distract, and cajole him…

Initially quite sweetly.

“C’mon, Richard. Jus’ hang out downstairs with me for a while ‘til you got your shit together, okay? Why don’t I fix you somethin’ ta’ eat, huh?”

But, when that failed, -typical Jackie-, she’d instantly be loudly bitchin’ him out and spoutin’ off shit she shouldn’t be (There was a reason they’d gotten along… before. They just understood each other’s mercurial temperaments.), “Dammit, Zo! This isn’t back in the day, _Zo!_ You didn’t used to let **Richie** see you like this, and you STILL don’t! Can’t you jus’ sober the fuck up first before you see Jimmy?!”  
  
  
But, despite her fucking _big mouth_ , she didn’t bother to try to block him.

That would’ve been pointless.  
  
  
So, time after time, he’d left her sighing dramatically in the foyer.

And, he’d gone up those long stairs, and down the hall, to let himself into their room…  
  
  
Prowling his way over to their new sleigh bed, and his sweet Raven who waited for him within it.  
  
  
Coming home to him, surely, smelling of smoke and sin.

But, not sex, anymore!

Not, yet…

Of any wicked deeds Richard could rightfully be accused of…

Being unfaithful to his Jimmy wasn’t one of them.  
  
  
Stalking closer as his boy’s slender arms reached out for him.

They could never reconnect quickly enough-  
  
  
But, then, there’d be **_Malik_** , who loved the fuck outta both Richard and the Kid, actually _growling_ viciously at him in warning from the large ottoman at the foot of the bed like a massive _dickhead_.

Ignoring all muttered or partially slurred out orders until Richard gave in, and linked to him.

Just long enough so the huge black and rust dog understood that it was all cool. It was truly still him and the Kid (Though, the Kid would be so deep, deep under at such times… after… such things….), and he could feel safe to leave his charge in their, -or, Richard’s, at the moment-, care.

And, Malik would pad his way across and out of the room. Nails clicking softly on the wooden floorboards, as he went to go lay out in the hallway directly in front of the main entry point to his masters’ domain.

Nuzzling his cold black nose, and elegant long snout into Richard’s side affectionately on his way out… as if he hadn’t been moments from attempting to take him the fuck down if he’d been found to be compromised.

-As he’d been taught to do with anyone whose energy was malicious ( _Dirty_ , as Richard thought of it.), or even simply too unexplainably suspicious-

Guarding the room from outside it now that what he saw as the rest of the pack, and the one in charge, was back home.  
  
  
Really, what it all boiled down to was that ultimately no one, -not Jackie, not Malik-, kept Richard from his Jimmy. Because, keeping him from his Raven when he needed him that badly… was simply never a good idea.

Not when he needed his soothing touch to make him clean, again. When he **needed** to be cleansed within his purity to survive another day of something that was worse than it could have ever been before.

Something that damaged him in ways he could never fully explain…

You see… to have moments of the Kid truly being involved in this, now, even if he blocked it from him… and to see the increasing instances of Simmons becoming more analytical regarding it all rather than terrified… it _traumatized_ the fuck out of Richard.

And, he hated himself so **intensely** for living in such quasi-denial for so long. For not getting them out when he could’ve. Because, now, that they knew about him and the Kid…  
  
  
But, at least, they didn’t know everything.

Not everything…

It was all he could hold on to.  
  
  
They didn’t know. Didn’t know of the few skills that only Richard, his mother, and eventually even Jackie had known that Simmons and Jimmy both possessed, and had been able to subconsciously access since before they could walk… Didn’t know that Jimmy was capable of detecting when they were back within the more immediate vicinity...

They didn’t and couldn’t know that it was pointless for Richard, -whether fucked up or not-, to try to force himself to stay away, when Jimmy would’ve instantly known the moment they were back, anyway. And, that even if the environment had seemed… hostile… he would’ve just swallowed his anxiety and distress, and come to them on his own if they took too long.

Physically drawn to them despite any fear…  
  
  
It had happened before.  
  
  
-Before Richard had learned that it was preferable to suppress shit from the Kid… and attempt to obliterate it all from himself-

That first time back… when he’d (THEY’D, now.) been back out… doing the-the… work… when Richard had been rusty, and not as controlled, and he’d fucked up…  
  
  
Richard might’ve gotten a good year and a half “off” (If you could call it that.), even after his breaking cover so… dramatically… during the whole… camp… thing…But, it seemed that’d been more due to Senior trying to figure out how to use this new situation to **their** advantage… but also due to how he had really held out hope that he could find Richard’s mother, and force her to _fix this_ problem that was now Richie  & Richard…

But, she was too deep in hiding by then… Some even suspected “off-planet”… but considering what she’d been up to… that likely hadn’t been the case, yet.  
  
  
Anyway… So, the first time they had come back home after- after he fucked up-

_Richard_. After HE fucked up. It was HIM. **Richard.** NOT Simmons-

It wasn’t the Kid’s fault.

At. All.

Do. You. Fucking. Understand?!

It wasn’t- **nothing** \- none of this bullshit was ever the Kid’s fault!-  
  
  


Jacquette Family Kitchen:

Aftermath Of First Day In-Field With R2~R3

  
“Rich, just-just leave them the hell alone, already! What did you expect? It’s been so long, and he’s… he’s never done anything like this with Richie-”

Pacing.

Pacing back and forth like a caged leopard, Senior shouted, “Thas’ some **bullshit** , an’ you know it, James! What ‘bout at the camp? That was BOTH those boys t’gether that took that place down! An’ what ‘bout before that when they took over yer house, an’ almost killed you an’ Marianne?”

“Ah- No! Richie wasn’t even-!... Don’t- Don’t you bring Richie into all that! That was… That was just between… me n’ Richard… And… And, even _he_ didn’t-didn’t **really** hurt… me… exactly…” James argued his points, but his voice was low, and he was looking at the granite countertop uncomfortably. As if he could find some answers in the grain.

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake! Quit coddlin’ the damn boys all the time!,” Senior spat out in disgust, still striding angrily back and forth in front of the kitchen’s island, “Between you n’ yer damn wife n’ Em back in the day… ya’ll turned ‘em inta’ fuckin’ pussycats!”  
  
  
Richard and Simmons just stood there. The sound of furious and frustrated voices buffeting round them like a fitful wind.

Strikingly sober, yet, silent and numb to everything around them as the two older men… deliberated… over their… their…

Over what they’d done.

Richard wasn’t even capable of… of smoothing all this out for Simmons, yet… He was still so… so lost.

Lost to the sounds… the _Whoosh_ , and that ominous _crackle_ , and-and the-the-

High-pitched **screams**.  
  
  
Simmons whimpered too low to be overheard by the two quarrelling men…

And, Richard closed their eyes.  
  
  
“Anyway, it was just a lot for the first time back out… And, considering Richard’s new… situation… with-with Richie… Taking- Taking such… changed… circumstances into account-,” James, -always uneasy with all this “weirdness”, though he’d been a part of it from the beginning-, winced a bit, but still stepped closer to Richard and Simmons. As if in silent support, “You have to admit that it was… impressive to say the least!”  
  
  
Simmons looked up at that. At “Father”. Breaking Richard’s heart into a thousand fucking pieces with that unmistakable feeling that radiated through so clearly.

How _badly_ the Kid wanted his father’s love and approval.

Never knowing that he already had it.  
  
  
Richard felt differently when he saw, or thought of Senior. All he thought, anymore… on an endless loop… with such fucking pain and emptiness burning within him… was about what the old man had done to them, what he’d allowed them to suffer, and how…

_I-I don’t want to remember … I trusted him... A part of me... still trusted him…_  
  
  
Simmons was watching _Father_ even more closely, now (Richard’s thoughts bleeding through having caused his curious mind to pounce.), but when Senior had no response to James’ praise… the small-statured man only seemed to gain more courage, and he insisted, “I mean, the output was… off the charts! The amount of power that Richie added to the equation was… immense, Rich! Between the both of-”

Senior stopped pacing directly in front of them. His azure eyes flashing dangerously, “You listen here, ya’ goddamn FOOLS! Power means **_nothin’_** without CONTROL! How many times I gotta fuckin’ say that ta’ you dumb bastards! An’ Richard! You oughta know better than ta’ allow that boy free reign! Thas’ what you did- You couldn’t a’ been overpowered by _Richie_ \- so I know you did! **_Stupid!_** ”  
  
  
[Simmons gasped softly, and Richard silently assured, “He’s talking about me, Kid. Not you. You’re-You’re-”]  
  
  
But, Senior was on a frickin’ roll, and Richard couldn’t get his thoughts straight enough to tell him off, OR to comfort Simmons when the old man wouldn’t shut the fuck up!

He hadn’t wanted to do any of this, - _especially_ not with the Kid-, anyway!

“Jus’ what the HELL were you thinkin’?!,” Senior went on, enraged as all fuck, as James simply sighed, and rolled his eyes at this point (The _years_ he must’ve spent listening to this man rant… It was insane.), “You call what that damn Richie did “coverin’ your tracks”?... Well, DO YOU?!,” he didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “Coulda’ been _caught_ , goddammit! I won’t lose you cause a’ that damn boy, again! YOUUNDERSTANDME?! He might be yours, but you’re MINE. An’ I don’t give a flyin’ **fuck** what he means ta’ yer sentimental ass if you don’t care ‘bout what YOU mean ta’ ME, Richard! You fuckin’ _selfish_ lil’ bastard! An’ if that mother fuckin’ Richie can’t be useful- if he can’t even control his damn self, well, then-…Well, what the- Hey, I’m still _talkin’_ ta’ you fuckers! You listen ta’- What the fuck ya’ll lookin’ at?!”  
  
  
But, despite Senior’s furious tirade… he had lost his audience.

They’d been distracted. And, were looking up, and right over his shoulder…  
  
  
At Jimmy, who now stood at the top of the back staircase.

Willowy as he was small. One of Richard and Simmons’ maroon t-shirts nearly swimming on him. The collar dipping slightly off a pale, creamy shoulder.

At first, it was disconcerting. Just so damn… _weird_ that they hadn’t even picked up on his approach…

But, then, Richard remembered.  
  
  
Fucking Senior. Something about the old man… he’d always been capable of overwhelming- of somehow _blocking_ their senses when the bastard was too close.  
  
  
Whatever the case, Richard was a little too distracted to think about anything else right then but… but what a trip it was to see his Jimmy through… almost double vision. See how Simmons saw him in such a moment. Like a lifeline in tumultuous waters. A safe haven personified. And, how Richard, himself, saw him… well, I’m willing to bet you get that by now…

The smallest of them was still frozen on the staircase. Focused entirely on Senior … And, honestly, he looked… fucking petrified.

God, Jimmy really couldn’t _stand_ the sight of the old man.

But, when his eyes turned to them…

Both Simmons and Richard saw the moment the other boy forgot, or ceased to care, about all _but_ them.  
  
  
It was Simmons who instantly linked. Without even knowing he was doing it.

-It always kinda freaked Richard out when the Kid just up an’ did something he shouldn’t, he _supposedly_ didn’t, remember or even know shit about-

And, as Jimmy walked purposefully down the stairs, and toward them, the Kid started babbling-

Though, thankfully, only their connected three heard his frantic words-

And, the silent conversation of sorts that they three shared.  
  
  
[“Jiiiimmmyyy,” Simmons whined pleadingly, reverting to a complete child in his distress, “I did-I did a bad-bad thing! There was th-this, uh… uhmmm… But, anyway, Richard took care of it, and-and I was just supposed to-to do a little- but IMPORTANT- thing to h-help at-at the end. Just to show I could, and- Just this one little thing for-for Father!”

Murmuring lowly within their link, -able to _speak_ within it… Though, even here his words could still get a bit… muddled and hard to get out, at times-, the smaller boy soothed, “O-Okay- Okay. You’re- You’re okay, now.”

But, then, he directed his next words straight to Richard. “Why, Richard?,” Jimmy asked. Clearly, not judgmentally… but, honestly, like he just didn’t understand, “Why did you let… why was he… even there?”

And, though, he was trying to stay calm for the Kid’s sake, Richard still flinched, “Raven… don’t get mad at me, alright? I can’t… handle that right now… Listen, they didn’t give me much of a choice, and I wasn’t really gonna let him, but-… Just… Yeah, I-I fucked up, okay?”

“No-No, Jimmy, LISTEN!,” the Kid was beyond agitated, but he wasn’t willing to let Richard take the blame for what he saw as his screw-up, “Father said he wanted me to do this… thing. But, Richard said no, we’d just-just _say_ I did it, and HE’D do it for me, but- but I-I wanted to… Father said _I_ was supposed to- ME!… So-So, I did it anyway! I-I DID IT ANYWAY!”

This didn’t seem to remotely surprise the other boy. Again, he spoke to Richard. Getting upset, now, “If you- you blank so-so- so freaking much- so much- so much f-from him, why the- why the hell kee-keep th-this?”

“I’m not!,” Richard denied in obvious offense… but, then, he whispered within their link, “Baby, I need… I’m just… just too… tired from… everything… I need a… a lil’ help before I can-”

“SHUT UP, you idiots!,” Simmons squawked, enraged by their apparent lack of understanding what a ‘fucking worthless failure’ he was, “I’m-I’m fucking t-telling you something! Listen- Are you fucking _listening?!_ Because, I-I mis-miscalculated- I messed up! And, it was too big, and it was like-like BOOM, and, then, it spreeeead- The neighbors WERE gone, but the kids- They left them-They _left_ them with a babysitter, and-and-”]  
  
  
It was then that Jimmy physically reached them, that his arms wrapped around their waist (Senior, with no more than a quiet grumble, allowing the comfort and physical contact outside “closed doors” or within eyesight likely due to the situation, and James only wincing ever so slightly.), and Simmons, -in spite of Jimmy holding him so tightly within protective, though slim, arms-, couldn’t help but burst out, “Those kids could’ve DIED!”

None of the three of them realized that that last had erupted out into the room at large rather than privately between them three until James softly assured, “But, they _didn’t_ , though. Richie? You know Richard got it under control. Though he had ta’ take out the whole damn block to do it,” the dark-haired man mumbled under his breath, before taking a deep breath, and reminding, “But, you saw… We all saw that they got out… ”

When Simmons said nothing, just wrapped shaking arms around the smaller boy that still clung to them… Richard turned their head to look directly at Senior.

And, feeling James touch their shoulder in comfort, and seeing the flash of… _jealousy_ , of all things, on Senior’s face that he ignored, -he’d always been that way, after all-, Richard quietly asked, not realizing how much his voice was trembling, “And, what if-what if next time, they don’t?”

And, for a short moment… Senior almost seemed kind. Assuring lowly, “We’ll be more careful, son. We won’t let there be a next time. Maybe, yer boy- maybe, we’ll jus’ try ta’ keep ‘em outta it like you wanted... A’right? C’mon, now…”

But, then, the old man seemed to remember Jimmy’s presence, and just that quickly he was gritting his teeth, and jerking his head toward the smaller boy that they held to their chest, “…Now-Now, look here! That there boy might be mostly mute anymore, but he ain’t fuckin’ deaf! Y’all watch yer mouth! All a’ you!”  
  
  
Right. As if Senior, himself, hadn’t just been saying the same kinda revealing shit, and-

Whatever.  
  
  
Richard was just grateful that **they** , especially Senior, didn’t know about their linking when it came to Jimmy.

_Of course_ , he knew that Richard and the Kid could communicate internally, now, but, he thought that was simply a side effect of them sharing the same body.

-It didn’t appear to occur to him that they could’ve linked in such a way before… Maybe, it was too frightening a thought for so paranoid a person-

And, he _definitely_ thought Jimmy was a total failure when it came to anything… of that nature.

Keeping **him** , in particular, thinking that, keeping up the pretense was a large part of why they’d bothered to do things like… learn sign language, for example… at all. (Not that Simmons learned it, though. He needed to be able to be wiped- blanked quick, at times, and anything involving physical, repetitive memory-triggering movements were… not helpful in that regard.) The signing not only, -when the tremors were minimal or under control-, allowed Jimmy to communicate with others-

But, it also worked to mask the fact that, between their little triad, they didn’t always need such things to share their thoughts, anymore.

However, when they weren’t physically linked (And, NO, that did not have to mean _sex_ , for fuck’s sake. But, that was the best of the best, obviously. And, it wasn’t like Richard wouldn’t ever utilize such things when he and his Raven were alone, but that was beside the point.), such things DID take a lot of effort so it wasn’t like they could just bullshit all day, anyway.

Which totally sucked.  


✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Oh, but fuck all that. That had been the first time back out, and…

This had been going on for a while. And, they had a… a _system_ , now.

So, there was no point getting worked up about this shit when the Kid currently didn’t remember anything about such things, and he was safely asleep and so innocently unaware-

And, no point wasting time being even more jacked in the head, when they were finally back home again with their Jimmy… and their little family was _whole_ , again.  
  
  
But… there WAS something a bit strange to note… It was almost a… How to explain?... Like, -figuratively speaking-, a blinking red message light from the Kid.

_Simmons wants to talk to you! Simmons wants to talk to you!_ , pulsed weakly through their veins.

It was kinda sweet.

But, nevertheless, surely it could wait until after Richard had recharged? After he’d reconnected with his Raven, with his sweet baby like he **needed** so desperately to after- after anything and everything.

I mean, this had to have been a tough bit of… work… for him to be SO fucking drained, right?  
  
  
_Or, **maybe** , this was actually a few years past the approximate point in time that Richard thought they were in, and he so hated to secretly and meaninglessly siphon off others, rather than connect and share and renew with his baby, that he would put it off until it had to be done, and they were fucked up? Maybe, he was lying in bed with fucking **Grif** , and mistaking him for his beloved Jimmy because he was just that starved, and THAT much of a desperate, heartsick dumbass?_  
  
  
Euuuggghhh. If only he’d known all that, and listened to what the Kid wanted to tell him! He could’ve had his Raven back so much sooner…  
  
  
But, he had assumed that if whatever the Kid wanted to talk about was actually urgent, he woulda woken his ass up, right?

WRONG.  
  
  
Who the fuck knows why Richard didn’t take the Kid’s anxiety, and overthinking, and how weak they were into account.

Maybe, he was just that confused, just THAT _hungry_ for the one he loved.

(That, again, wasn’t even the one he was currently _with_ \- But, he didn’t know that, dammit!)

But, even as starved, as fucked in the head as he was… having periodically been hearing his Jimmy speaking softly to him all through the day and night on top of everything else (And, even feeling Malik’s cold snout pressing into the palm of his hand, for Christ’s sake!), as he had since-since… so long ago…

His senses could only be fooled for so long.  
  
  
But, apparently that was still long enough-

For Richard to curl tighter around… GRIF.

-Jesus Fuck-

Who he really and truly currently thought was his Raven.  
And, for reasons that went much, much deeper than _hair_ color and texture.  
Geez, Kid! Give him a little more credit than **that**! (Though, he had to admit, -as dumb as it sounded-, that, in his fucked up mind-set, that may have been what initially triggered the whole damn thing.)  
  
  
It just felt like he hadn’t seen his sweet baby in _for-fucking-EVER_.

But, then, the three of them were so rarely apart since that nightmare at the mother fucking camp…

-It had even been decided that both Jimmy _and_ Simmons would finish up high school through the school’s curriculum from home, at that point (Easier to hide their damage, and to grab Richard and Simmons up for last minute assignments if there was no one that would really question anything.)-

So anytime they were separated from each other felt like an eternity. And, they were really only apart when… Senior needed Richard… and the Kid, now, too… to take care of some-some… things.

Things that DID take a while, at times. Sometimes, even week or two… Oh, it was HELL.

For a million reasons, but-

But, getting to come back home to his Jimmy… having some time with just them two to… reconnect. And, then, waking up with the three of them able to be together, again. Be a _family_ , again…

For a while, anyway.

Until, the Kid started to remember shit he wasn’t supposed to.

Maybe, cause something triggered a memory in him… sometimes, even just seeing Jimmy on a… a bad day… or hearing a certain tone in Senior’s voice would be enough…

And, he’d be terrified, or-or violent, or even _worse_ , the scariest, he’d just shut down…

And, Richard would have to safeguard him within a world of make-believe until he was calm enough, again, to rejoin them.  
  
  
Oh, his poor, sweet Kid with his truly treasured, yet, terrifically tortured mind…  
  
  
_*Bitter Snort*_ Like Richard was one to talk, but…

But, anyway… it wasn’t _always_ the Kid that was the one who’d freaked out initially, either. Sometimes, Jimmy’d be the one having another massive break-down because… because of lots of reasons, but the “out a’ the blue” times usually seemed to involve him having “seen something within a piece of wood” that he desperately _needed_ to carve to life-

But, the tremors in his hands didn’t allow such things, anymore.

His beloved broken boy struggled so much, at times, simply living day to day with his unfulfilled artist’s soul…  
  
  
A sad sigh escaped him…  
  
  
And, Richard was lifting Grif’s hand, -that in the darkness around and within his mind he truly believed to be Jimmy’s-, up to his lips.

Kissing his fingertips ever so gently.

“Raven,” he whispered into the quiet of the suddenly so dark room.

Only a soft hum in response.

“My sweet baby… I missed you,” Richard’s voice was hardly audible as his fingers slid up an arm too beefy, too strong to have ever belonged to one so small and delicate.  
  
  
_A wince. A moment of near realization frantically pushed away._  
  
  
And, he was breathing him in.

The smell of his satin smooth skin was always so…

Intoxicating.

Exquisite.  
  
  
But… wait…

That wasn’t the sweet scent of cinnamon and Christmas…  
  
  
A soft suspicious growl escaped Richard as his eyes narrowed into slits.  
  
  
But, it was then that his hand slipped into-

He sighed in contentment, even relief, this time, as he murmured, “So beautiful, baby…”  
  
  
And, the feel of his silky raven strands sliding through his fingers-

It was beauty and peace.

A constant.

Rather short or long.

Inevitably-

Lovely.  
  
  
And, Richard was moving atop him.

Straddling him.  
  
  
And, just that quickly…

He was caught between a pleased purr-

And a confused hiss.  
  
  
Uncertain, again.  
  
  
Because, it HAD to be him, but… Jimmy was not this… _big_. He simply had never been anything but small-statured, and incredibly small-boned.  
  
  
And, of course, all this sounds sorta... creepy and weird when _you know_ that it was a sleeping **Grif** , and NOT actually a silent, but ever so willing Jimmy that Richard had climbed on top of! But, _Believe. Me._ Richard didn’t know. And, such things were a very normal part of his and Jimmy’s relationship.

They were always… touchy-feely n’ shit.

And, they always took care of each other. Of this part of them that Richard had always hated most of all because it screamed out the truth of their difference to the world.  
  
  
Yes, he’d hated the need for it… but with Jimmy… It was different. It was always so _right_ between them. When all else fell away… and the stress and worry faded into the background in the face of this pull… This endless pull they had toward each other… Like always attracting rather than opposing magnetic forces-

It was fucking perfection come to life.

The give and the take. The strength and the weakness. The hunger and the near lust when sated with positive rather than negative, or “dirty” as Richard thought of it, energy.

For so many years, since that first time in the Academy of all places, they’d fulfilled this unnatural need within each other.

Before the damage….

Before the attempted destruction of something so pure and untainted between them…  
  
  
And, even after.

Maybe, especially after.

When they HAD to link like never before…  
  
  
Richard leaned over the one below him. Pressed his face into his neck. Affectionately rubbing his cheek, his lips under his jaw.

The quiet rumble he received in return was nothing like the puppy growls from Jimmy that Richard was so used to.

Not to mention, as he nuzzled him again, the unfamiliar slight rasp of facial hair he felt against his skin that made no sense.

Not on someone who had always hardly been able to grow facial or even body hair, and YET had gotten his fucking sister to somehow secretly take him, -without informing his fucking partner!-, to get multiple sessions of laser hair removal like **everywhere** (If you know what I mean.) during some of the times Richard and Simmons had been… out. Doing what they had to do.

Richard knew it was Jimmy's body- blah, blah... And, of course, it looked really good- But, still! Anything more permanent, _especially_ on one not even quite eighteen, ought to be discussed!... And…  And, well, shit… Richard had actually… He’d kinda… kinda really liked the intimacy of shaving him… Not like in a perv way!... But, ya know, due to Jimmy’s trembly hands not always allowing him to do it on his own… When Richard took care of these things for him… feeling how deeply his beautiful boy trusted him… It just… It just fucking touched him deeply, okay?  
  
  
Hmph… To think…

Here there was all this mounting _evidence_ that the person he lay with was not the one he loved…  
  
  
If Richard could go back in time, he’d kick his own ass!

Well… if that hadn’t meant he’d be kicking the Kid’s ass, too…

Fuck! He could never win!

And, shit… maybe, he shouldn’t be TOO hard on himself… Cause the truth was… by that point…in that moment… despite _everything_ … He was just so **pleased** that who he thought was his Raven was finally “waking” up, or starting to respond to him… how lonely he’d been without him… for what felt like an eternity… that he pushed these realizations aside… into that mess of things he couldn’t yet accept.  
  
  
And, fuck. Richard really was so _empty_. He wasn’t exactly in his right mind. So hungry… so especially starved for the purity that had only ever been found with his Jimmy…

He couldn’t _let_ himself believe he was with anyone else. That it wasn’t his beloved, sweet baby with him…

Because, what… what would that mean for them?  
  
  
And, that was when he felt fingers twining in his hair.

And, when it all started to fall apart.

As finally feeling his touch… a touch that should have been as familiar as it was soothing… a part of him truly knew…  
  
  
_Too thick, too thick. Not like his baby’s slender, artist’s fingers-_  
  
  
And, his mind began to fucking **break**.  
  
  
Because, NO! It wasn’t- It _couldn’t_ be anyone but him!

He wanted to scream. Something was wrong! Everything was wrong! Though, he couldn’t fully accept it, or comprehend anything that was going on-

Within this moment where he had lost track of their current circumstances to the point that he absolutely believed he had been in their sleigh bed… With Malik relaxed, but alert outside the room… And, Jimmy curled close to him, whispering his love to him within his very mind…  
  
  
_But, also still hearing those beeps, again… those soft, continuous beeps…_  
  
  
It didn’t make **sense** for anything else to be his reality.  
  
  
And, Richard was too stubborn to give up… or to give in.  
  
  
That too big hand was sleepily sliding down his back when Richard kissed his pulse point. In that way that he’d never kissed anyone but his Jimmy (Before… Before this terrible night.).

A soft press of closed lips, followed immediately by an open-mouthed wet _taste_ of silken skin…  
  
  
It was always overwhelming.

_Tantalizing_.

There was no better word to describe…

The sweet, electric taste of him on his tongue.

Delicious.

His sweet baby.

Unique.

Precious beyond compare…

And-

His.

His.

Always and all his-

……

But-But…  
  
  
No.  
  
  
_PleasePleasePleaseNo._

This person that lay beneath him…

The taste of him-

Entirely Unfamiliar.

His silky, dark hair-

Too thick.

His scent… his very pheromones themselves-

Too masculine.

Too overtly male.

The feel of his skin-

Quite smooth, but not satin.

And, his body _itself_ -

Too… filled out. Thick, yet strong.  
  
  
But, still… perhaps… Maybe, his Raven had-had put on some weight, or-or had an allergic reaction to something, or-!  
  
  
-Richard’s desperation, his terror at the thought of losing his boy (Again… **Again** …) _may_ have driven him a little, just a tad… stark raving mad as fuck-  
  
  
And-And, when-when his sweet baby was very ill he DID absolutely smell and taste slightly altered so-

(But this wasn’t just somewhat dissimilar- But, _different_.)

Yes! That was certainly it. Jimmy was simply… in a bad way. And, he needed-

Richard just needed to-  
  
  
Restore him.

Do like they always did anymore, not just for revitalizing and communication, but going even deeper for when they needed healing. Needed to find that perfect alignment that they only found with each other…

Surely if Richard just linked up with him-

He could fix it. Repair those broken synapses one by one.

Gradually. So carefully.

So incredibly cautiously.  
  
  
As he’d been successfully, yet so slowly, doing for years.  
  
  
And, then, he’d reawaken him to nothing but languid pleasure, and whispers of love passed silently between that currently open, private mental link.

Truly connected as they were meant to be. As they’d been made, -they three-, to be.

But, with this…

This…

Was just between them two.  
  
  
But as Richard started to reach for him. For that sweet electric pulse that he knew so well-

He instantly knew.

There was no more denying it.

That wasn’t his sweet baby’s sig.

No. It was- It was-…  
  
  
GRIF!!!  
  
  
And, Richard’s thought process instantly switched from _‘Let me help you, my sweet baby ’_ to **‘I’m gonna _kill_ you, you mother fucker**!’  
  
  
Because what was Grif doing in bed with him and the Kid like THIS?! What the FUCK was he-  
  
  
And, Richard had a flash of memory.

Of holding not-not his Jimmy, but- but GRIF down. Kissing and biting into his skin. Fingers in his hair. Teeth marking his collarbone, licking and sucking under his chin… His-His sweet baby’s sweet spots…

Nooooooo…

An internal howl of misery.

He was gonna be _siiiick_. How could he have done this! How could he have-  
  
  
Oh, my fuck! And, even worse-even worse!  
  
  
He saw how he had- He had touched Grif’s chest.

His heart.

Given that familiar tap, and press down that said so much with no words, at all…  
  
  
_I **know** you. Your heart. Your spirit. Who you really are._  
  
  
No-NO! That was- That was THEIRS! His and Jimmy’s. Something unspoken, but precious. More than pet names. More than a simple sweet caress.

But a sign. A sign- THEIR sign that they knew each other beneath the skin. Beneath the sinew, and muscle, and bone. To the very core- the very core of who they both really were. All their faults and their perfect imperfections. That they understood each other, even when they drove each other nuts, and-and that they loved-loved and accepted that person that lived beneath the skin...  
  
  
The bitter taste of betrayal. His own. He- HE had betrayed his sweet boy. To share something so intimate with someone else, with-with fucking **Grif** of all people! ( _Simmons’_ Grif… Oh, there were no words for how much WORSE that made it.) He couldn’t **bear** it. He couldn’t…  
  
  
And, then, just to make things even _worse_ , Richard had the horrifying thought that maybe-maybe he’d been so fucked in the head that he’d-he’d-

Holy fucking shit! Had he- Had he actually _slept_ with him? Like… in any capacity?... He couldn’t even remember. Had he- Had he really cheated on his- on his-?! Had he actually suckedorjerkedoffor _fucked_ someone else?! Oh, my fuuuuuck!  
  
  
He was instantly sitting up on the fatass to look down at him in disbelief.

And, wouldn’t you know it? The bastard was looking right back at him! Totally awake, now (Well, for _him_ , anyway.)! Still drowsy, but-but-

_Smirking_.  
  
  
Richard just blinked dumbly at him.

He was so tripped the hell out, so wide-eyed, and in the middle of a frickin’ internal panic attack… that it’s no surprise that the fatass really believed he was who he thought of as “His” Simmons, at the moment.

“Sup, dude?,” Grif yawned a little, his voice still a bit gravely from sleep, “Just can’t keep your hands off me, huh, Simmons?”

Even as he said that, HIS hands were wrapping around _Richard’s_ hips.  
  
  
Richard grasped his wrists _instantly_. Jaw clenching. Intent on throwing his fucking big- big MAN hands off him, or even breaking a couple of his thick ( _*Shudder*_ ) fingers in warning (Though, considering HE was the one straddling the dude that probably seems a, uh, _tad_ excessive.)-

But, instead of doing any of that…  
  
  
Richard froze.

Because, he realized… the _way_ Grif’s hands were touching him.

In a much too **familiar** fashion.

This was not the first time he’d been touching this body like this tonight… And, it hadn’t been _Richard_ that he’d-

His eyes had already started widening in shock when, to top it all off, he saw the _booze_ bottles.

Two six packs worth!

He didn’t even realize one was completely unopened.

THAT’S how stunned he was.

Because it hit him.  
  
  
_The Kid._  
  
  
And, all he could think of was one word.  
  
  
No.

No.

NO.

HELL, NO!  
  
  
Okay, that’s two, now, but whatever!  
  
  
This was- was like one of Richard’s worst nightmares. He could handle something fucked happening to him, or fucking up himself _any day_ compared to- compared to-

But not the Kid!

He couldn’t believe… He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea…

Even a dumbass like Grif… He wouldn’t DARE mess with the Kid…

Get him to drink-to drink, so he could… so he could-!  
  
  
In hindsight, Richard wished he could say he took the time to “rewind”, right then. To try to _understand_ exactly what the fuck was going on. To see that Grif _hadn’t_ been trying to get the Kid smashed, just so he could-could pull some messed up fuck n’ dump.

That _Grif_ had actually been the one to cut Simmons off when he got too loopy, and he hadn’t really planned on letting him have any more to drink. That he’d even tried to sober him up, and only left the room to get the second six-pack, -that they hadn’t even touched-, so he **didn’t** fuck up, and go too far with a not exactly sober Simmons.

And, that he’d been much more chill than most dudes would be when the Kid had, totally accidently (That’s how Richard preferred to see it.), been a huge fuckin’ tease.  
  
  
An’ I mean, so alright… okay… sure. Maybe, Richard should’ve given him even the tiniest bit of the benefit of the doubt due to him knowing that Grif really wasn’t even the kinda dude to, ya know… (Even though he still didn’t like the asshole all- all… messin’ with the Kid!)  
  
  
But…  
  
  
Yeah… he, uh… didn’t exactly do that… The fatass really didn’t help his goddamn case, though! Him and his _nasty_ mouth!  
  
  
“Dude, you okay?...” Grif obviously wasn’t _entirely_ awake, or alert (Big surprise there, right?), but, he still smiled a bit teasingly up at him, “What? You wake up all horny, again, n’ now you’re freakin’ out, _again?_ … I can still always just take care a’ you so you can sleep, ya’ know. Doesn’t mean we gotta straight out fuck, right now, or anything… And, then, maybe, you can settle your ass down, an’ I can get some sleep.”  
  
  
…Annnnd, Richard commenced with the losing of his shit.  
  
  
Cause… F-Fuck? Did he say something about… FUCK?! Who knows what else he said, cause… This-This asshole- He really thought he was going to- with the Kid?!

With Richard’s KID?!

Oh, heeeeelllll no!  
  
  
-Richard was like a broken record at this point-  
  
  
“C’mon, man, you’re gettin’ shaky, again,” And, just that quickly, the smile had slipped off Grif’s face, and his voice had turned placid. Almost soothing. And, he didn’t attempt to pull his wrists out of Richard’s too tight grip, either. Though, he DID try to use his own hold on his hips to start to press him more firmly down and forward against him. To urge him to drape himself back overtop him.

And, maybe, if he would’ve _stopped saying shit_ before he accidently said something that **really** pushed Richard over the edge… Maybe, Richard would’ve simply refused, and that would’ve been that. But, neither of them were very good at knowing when to hold their tongue or shut their fucking mouth.  
  
  
-It was something the two of them very much had in common-  
  
  
So, when Grif smirked, yet again, and trying to lighten the mood, said, “Can’t you ever just chill the fuck out? It’s just _me_ , Simmons. What’s there to be afraid of?”

Richard _growled_ so fiercely before spitting out, “I’m not afraid. _I’m **never** afraid, aiteann_. And, I’m. NOT. Simmons.”  
  
  
And, Grif hardly had a second to flinch-

Before the other man’s hand flashed to his throat, and he was _out_.

And, no. Richard didn’t “hit” him right in a so sensitive pressure point, or karate chop his ass, or even choke him the fuck out. Though, he could’ve done any of those things.

But, no.

He was feeling a little too _him_ to bother with such niceties. That dark, feral side of him that had been programmed, created, _manifested_ within his very tampered with DNA, that had simply been **there** for as long as he could recall (And, that had often only been kept under control for the sake of those under his protection.), had reared its savage head-  
  
  
-It’s leash had already been so very frayed...-  
  
  
And, it was _angry_.

It was **hungry**.

And, with no beloved Kid, no precious Raven there to soothe it back into complacently and contentment…

It had no mercy.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irish/Gaelic Translation: Aiteann (Pronounced: A-ch-own) means: Cunt
> 
> And, Richard accused Grif of having a "nasty" mouth! :P
> 
> This chapter will continue from this stopping point, so quite a bit more will be revealed. Please watch out for the chapter tags, as we’re just going to go deeper and deeper into sensitive subjects.
> 
> We now see that when Richard was trapped in the memory loop- trying to stay within the boundaries of a time when he was furious with Jimmy in order to escape the pain of his loss (Anger stage much?), that his last fleeting thought before the memory reset itself: _I-I don’t want to remember … I trusted him... A part of me... still trusted him... Even, though… I know- **I know** what happened next…_ was actually referring to Senior (Remember, I always said not everything was as it seemed.), and Richard’s underlying, inherent trust that he wouldn’t actually do or allow such things if he knew Richard was actually with Simmons. Not even to force him out. This dynamic between Richard and Senior will be further delved into during the memory of how the boys got out of the camp.
> 
> Perfect song for Richard at the end of this chapter for that moment when he loses it (Think about this… Simmons doesn’t just have Richard with him, he has whatever lives within Richard with him, too.):  
> [ Ruelle - Deep End](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6C3ND1nitRs&list=WL&index=47)
> 
> I planned on having the following chapter up in the next few days, but that's gonna depend on if the internet cooperates. Please send good vibes to my internet connection. ;P
> 
> There’s a lot I want to say about the story and what inspired it to go in this direction that I couldn’t say in the beginning without just spoiling everything, and I’m not sure I should say anything quite yet, because I’ll probably accidently spoil something that’s literally within the next one to three chapters!
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me on this story! I hope you all are well! Much Love! ♡–MissyAnn❀


	23. Monsters & Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was just… He was his… He was just a kid! Richard’s- He was his, his, HIS!
> 
> Richard wouldn’t let him be hurt ( _NeverAgainNeverAgain._ ), defiled, used, thrown away! And, by- by… someone- GRIF- who wasn’t even one of them! Someone who could **never** understand! Someone who didn’t know their Blood, and their pain! Their past, and their twisted reality!
> 
> This would NOT-
> 
>  
> 
> _He has to go. Has to go. Too **dangerous** for the Kid. We can Mark him for term? Yes? Okay? Let’s Mark him!_  
>   
> 
> He almost couldn’t remember how… THESE things hadn’t been simply taught in the aboveground lab… And, they certainly were not “mother-sanctioned”…
> 
> But… his mom wasn’t here, was she?… And, his Raven wasn’t… wasn’t… And, now, some- some _asshole_ wanted to take Richie from him just to destroy the Kid!
> 
>  
> 
> He’d drain the fucker DRY before he ever, EVER let him-
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  *****~10/23/17 ADDED NOTE~***** : Next week looks like it will finally be clear enough for me to hopefully *fingers crossed* get up the next chapter. I am also looking into an alternate, secondary way to post, -possibly on a blog-, where I can update more frequently with WIPs, further info. into some of the topics this story delves into, and so on.  
>  *****~9/29/17 ADDED NOTE~***** : I'm working on an update as well as finally getting some traction on the next chapter. We're dealing with a very frightening medical crisis in my household right now as well as other ongoing issues so it's been slow-going. Hope to be back to posting sooner rather than later!  
> ~8/19/17 ADDED NOTE~: I AM coming back, and I've been working on the next chapter. Been dealing with some stuff, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. I hope everyone's well!
> 
> Chapter Tags: Dual-Sided is what we call it in _polite_ company, Auras-Auras all around, Hey, uh, Grif… dude… Remember That One Time I Almost Killed Your Ass?... Whaddya Mean ‘Which One’?!, Can Nerd Contracts Save Lives?, Jealous or Protective?, Youngest Manufactured Daddy Of All Time Award Goes Tooo…, Richard Misses His Mom, Richard’s Mom’s Identity Officially Confirmed, Let’s Talk about the Facility, Serious Insight into Cult/Cult-like Religious Communities  & The Dangers Faced When You’re “Different”, Dangerously Homophobic Environment, Offensive/Insensitive Language, Homophobic Slurs, Referenced/Mentioned Maiming and Murder of Gay/Trans/Gender-fluid Individuals, Sandra?... Where’ve we heard that bitch’s name before?, Richard! No “Voodoo Crap” at School!, Religious Academy Bathrooms are **very** BLUE  & **very** PINK- Just to remind you that you’re a goddamn boooy or a gurrrl
> 
> **CHAPTER WARNINGS:** Flashback including: Underage (Teenage) Consensual Non-Penetrative Sex in a Semi-Public Area (Timeframe after First Time Memory in Chapters 17-18), Biting, Silky Satin Surprises, Hair Pulling, Kissing, Clothed Grinding, Oral Sex, Richard’s POV so more graphic, Hands Down Most Effective Periodic Table Memorization Method ;P, Bean Bag Sex is Haaaard, Moments of Uncontrolled Aggressive Behavior
> 
>    
> Did Jimmy and Richard try to actually attempt to actively plan ahead for the eventuality of someone, “a Grif”, to one day enter into Simmons’ and their life?
> 
> Well, maybe, one of them did.
> 
>    
> *Note*: I fixed a glaringly inaccurate timeline error I made, so the boys are around a year older than previously stated during the flashback. Part of me _really_ wants to actually age them up even more (And actually on purpose.), but that wouldn’t be being true and honest to these situations. Honestly, what can be expected when teens and young people are forced to hide their relationships, who they really are, their sexualities, and so on? When they live in such a volatile environment, and only have each other to cling to? Again, I do apologize if them being teenagers in a physical relationship is uncomfortable, but they really aren’t like the other teens their age in this story. This is often the case with those that are raised in cult/cult-like environments irl, as well. Most grow up shockingly fast. You seriously have to. Regardless, don’t think that there isn’t a cause and effect to everything, and that we won’t be going over that in future chapters.
> 
>  
> 
>  

_He was feeling a little too him to bother with such niceties. That dark, feral side of him that had been programmed, created, **manifested** within his very tampered with DNA, that had simply been **there** for as long as he could recall (And, that had often only been kept under control for the sake of those under his protection.), had reared its savage head-_

 

_-It’s leash had already been so very frayed...-_

 

_And, it was _angry_. _

_It was **hungry**._

_And, with no beloved Kid, no precious Raven there to soothe it back into complacently and contentment…_

_It had no mercy._

 

 

As usual, it also had no true comprehension of what had brought it there. Unaware of the turmoil that had transpired, though it knew that he- that _Richard_ must’ve lost control, again.

 

_**Finally**_.

 

Fury momentarily forgotten, it was letting out a pleased rumble. Low and deep and startlingly inhuman.

 

-If anyone not in the know had heard such a sound in the deep dark of that room… they’d very likely have hysterically screamed about a wildcat having gotten into the base-

 

It’d been so long since there had been such a complete… break… from the routine...

Especially since this integration with what was basically Richard’s manufactured offspring…

So very long since Richard had allowed it, -rather unwillingly or not-, to come out to play.

 

Oh, yes, it was very aware of the offspring, the matched mate… And, of course, _Richard_ , -it’s mostly **boring** side-, himself… though they so rarely met on common ground (Though whenever they did… it was always… _electric_.).

As aware as any unruly attack hound was of its beloved though harsh master. A master who may have hidden its presence and thus saved them from being put down in some shady back lab… as all the others who were deemed too far gone, too feral to fake normalcy in polite company, had been… but a master who also kept it on such an infuriatingly tight choke collar at all times until… until he needed the back-up…

Now, wasn’t that unfair? To deny and deny one that just wanted them to do what Needed To Be Done.

To possess what and who belonged to them…

To destroy any opposition…

To abolish the Marked as they’d been trained to do.

 

Mmm… things had been so different before this physical fusion with “the Kid”.

_They_ had always been close enough that Richard had not always **had** to be overwhelmed with his baser, more animalistic emotions… beyond the point of action being dictated by thought or reason… in order to allow their merger…

But, oh, how ‘people’ love to lie. To themselves most of all. Always trying to hide from things that were a part of their reality. Things that just _were_.

**It** , on the other hand, was honest. As only one driven by those base urges that Richard pushed away could be.

Oh, it knew that Richard was _enraged_ with this man that lay helpless beneath them.

But, it was never in Richard’s own individual nature to do anything too… lasting, or… vicious… on his own.

 

Too bright, -suddenly _too_ unnaturally bright eyes-, flicked down to the limp man below…

Fingers trailing back to press hungrily to that pulse...

 

Such a pussy, Rich-Rich-Richard… _Murrooow_ … such a pussy-pussycat…

 

The growl that escaped them, now, was all Richard.

And, -still pushed past reason as he needed to be these days-, he was leaning back overtop the dark-haired, so silent and still man that neither of them could any longer exactly recognize while in such a state.

 

_-Ah, what a prince. Sometimes, Richard really just needed a little push-_

 

Ignoring it as he encircled that tan throat with slender, pale fingers that were so steady considering how the very blood that pumped within them sung with the need.

The need, the desire to just- to just-

 

But… the need to check the grid was stronger than even this.

 

Richard, himself, was always still connected enough to some shred of… humanity?... even in their linking to pause long enough to evaluate rather than to instantly devour.

After all, _Richard_ always wanted to protect, to shield, to deflect, to save… Did Richard regret saving _it_ where he never seemed to with their created offspring or with the matched mate?

Funny that they’d ever thought that one so obsessed with the protection of his own (Rather than their ultimate possession. To have them undeniably BELONG to no other… that was what _it_ fixated on…)- To think that it’d ever been thought, -and from the very beginning-, that he could have allowed his own to _truly_ take part, to work in tandem on such, such seemingly (According to Richard.) treacherous deeds.

Hmm… curious… But, uninteresting at such a time.

When it just wanted to recharge and to-

 

But, despite that sting of overwhelming emptiness waiting to be filled… it was really only natural to follow Richard’s lead at the moment.

To feel, and take part in the _stretch_ of consciousness in order to more comfortably assess their surroundings.

To slip beyond this too slim, too weak physical form… past what the naked eye could see…

To touch upon and perhaps, -if compatible-, even sip from those lovely, lovely currents that ran through… everything…

 

But, there was an unfortunate… distraction.

Richard was momentarily startled by the actual color that surrounded the dark-haired man… Not by the _aura_ itself, -which was simply the visualization of the electromagnetic field that surrounded- that surrounded-

 

Laughter.

Loud and brittle, and _known_ whispered and pinged through-out all synapses.

Ah. _Richard’s_ voice speaking to one of the main handlers from before… before…

 

_“Shit, you guys are funny! Electronics, electronics everywhere! **Everything’s** gotta be electronically controlled, or used as a way to spy. Whelp, that works out fine for me, though, huh?... And, you know what else works out so niiicccely?... All those especially pretty little currents running through Ev-ery. Lit-tle. living thing. Sooo many choices. The nerves… the brain… the heart…”_

 

A vicious growl.

Not from Richard this time.

The sound of its more corporeal, more “human” side’s actual voice… even just within a flash of unwanted memory… so infuriating to recall those moments where even when they were in _danger_ … Richard had held on to some weak semblance of ‘morality’ rather than allowing it full control.

For the sake of their offspring and the matched mate… and ultimately even himself…

Such a desire to be a decent _person_ …

And, it was this disgustingly domesticated behavior that had allowed their triad (As it really counted itself as of Richard. They’d been two in one before the others were even there.) as a whole and individually to be… to be…

 

NO! It would NOT allow them to be damaged anymore due to **weakness**.

It would NEVER allow them to starve, and flicker, and fade out.

 

The lights overhead flashed… and further dimmed.

As the rage took hold, and-

 

And, suddenly, in the midst of the distraction, -even through the haze of its hunger and wrath-, Richard could see too clearly… and, yet, not clearly at all.

And, he could remember… as the color continued to slowly bleed into focus, as all their individual shades merged, then shifted away from each other around his fingers, and-and all about where they were wrapped loosely around Grif’s throat…

_Grif._

Not just some random dude with a natural overflow to “borrow” from that replenished so quickly that it meant nearly nothing.

No, this was **Grif** …

 

And, he’d fucked with the Kid.

Richard had _trusted_ him… At least, enough to leave the two of them alone.

 

_-A internal snarl. It may have settled down enough to allow Richard his own thoughts (Though it shared them.), but it did NOT like that he’d done that-_

 

And, Richard had to agree that he’d been a jackass. To have trusted him with one so precious… who’d been through that which someone like Grif could never understand, or, at the very least, never have the patience or energy to work through…

 

He’d probably just been fucking around with the Kid, anyway…

Fucking with him- Fucking with him- FUCKING with him!

As though he was just _anyone_. Not someone who meant so much- Someone that needed to be forever beloved, **sacrificed** for, PROTECTED…

 

There was just no fucking way that this- THIS could be a thing!

Grif, he-

He wasn’t even one of them!

 

_Right- right. He isn’t. He **isn’t**._

 

And, he’d want to separate them!

No.

 

_No._

 

He couldn’t…

Not with Richard’s…

 

_Richie. Your-our-kid-brother-son Richie._

 

He was just… He was his… He was just a kid! Richard’s- He was his, his, HIS!

Richard wouldn’t let him be hurt ( _NeverAgainNeverAgain._ ), defiled, used, thrown away! And, by- by… someone- GRIF- who wasn’t even one of them! Someone who could **never** understand! Someone who didn’t know their Blood, and their pain! Their past, and their twisted reality!

This would NOT-

 

_He has to go. Has to go. Too **dangerous** for the Kid. We can Mark him for term? Yes? Okay? Let’s Mark him!_

 

He almost couldn’t remember how… THESE things hadn’t been simply taught in the aboveground lab… And, they certainly were not “mother-sanctioned”…

But… his mom wasn’t here, was she?… And, his Raven wasn’t… wasn’t… And, now, some- some _asshole_ wanted to take Richie from him just to destroy the Kid!

 

He’d drain the fucker DRY before he ever, EVER let him-

 

“Richar-?... Can you-?… You’re spik-…, aga-…”

 

A soft voice… so quiet, and mellow despite how it cut in and out…

So low, -little louder than a background hum-, that they could’ve discounted it if not for whose it was…

It whispered within their currently merged minds.

 

And, it worked as a sword. Dividing them instantly, even as it soothed the more feral of the two into an actual _stupor_ , and filled Richard, himself, with hope-

And fear-

And, terrible confusion.

 

“Whate-…. doin-… need… calm down… now.”

 

“Baby?... Jimmy?.... Oh, fuck-FUCK! Not. This. Again… Why can’t YOU hear ME?! Stop torturing _meeeee!_ ,” Richard softly wailed. Releasing Grif’s throat to wrap his arms around his own waist… curling in on himself as though in physical agony… though still he clung desperately to every broken word, every single syllable, “I can’t take it. I can’t take it... I’m not crazy-I’m not crazy-I’m not-”

 

But, he certainly was an idiot. When Simmons eventually understood the whole story, he would be _beyond_ furious with Richard for hiding things that, considering his study of physics from such a young age, -quantum, in particular-, the Kid swore he could have pieced together (As wild as it all was.), and explained very easily to him.

And, though, some might consider the Kid to be a smarty-pants know-it-all, sometimes… Richard thought he was very likely right…

 

But, honestly, the thought of Simmons being able to help figure anything out didn’t even occur to Richard at the time. _Especially_ , when the next words he heard were-

 

“Ri-…? I wish you’d-… Promise-… me-”

 

And, oooh fuuuck.

Those words.

“Promise me.”

Even though they undeniably referred to something else, it didn’t matter, at all.

Because a contract was a contract was a contract.

-Even a _NERD Contract_ -

Especially with one that functioned as Richard now did-

 

And, Grif was safe from Richard’s wrath for a moment longer… As Richard was almost _forcibly_ taken back…

To years before.

Before the camp.

Before they truly realized ones such as them would never be accepted in the sunlight-

 

When they were all still together…

-And, even the _it_ that slumbered within Richard was quite tame or easily pacified-

To the time of the “Nerd Contract”, and the memory it had brought upon them…

 

A time when together they were still whole…

 

 

** Before The Camp: Beginnings of A Conversation & A Contract **

  
“Richard? I wish you’d just-” the dark-haired boy murmured softly into his shoulder.

“Jimmy-”

“-promise me… You have to _promise me_ that you won’t just-”

“Raven, no. I don’t even wanna talk about it. _Especially_ not freaking **today** , ” Richard insisted stubbornly.

It was just the two of them. Simmons had fallen asleep a couple hours before, and Richard was leaning back in Jimmy’s rather large leather desk chair with the smaller boy sitting across his lap. Resting against his chest while Richard idly ran his fingers through his hair, and down his back…

They’d just been chillin’ out so Richard had no clue why Jimmy had decided to push _this_ topic.

Particularly on such a day.

Jimmy rubbed his hands anxiously against Richard’s chest as he leaned back to look up at him earnestly, “Richard, I know it seems like a weird time to bring it up-”

 

Yeah, no shit.

 

“-but… I’ve been worrying about it for a while, now, and-and… it’s _important_. I mean, it’s okay for now, but one day when Simmons meets someone… We won’t be able to be over-protective forever, Richard. And, we can’t be selfish, either… This isn’t even a normal kinda situation for what it presents as! It’s not like we could have a three-way relationship like apparently some other people do in situations that at least present as similar-”

“Wha- Three-way… Fucking gross, Jimmy!,” Richard pushed at the smaller boy’s shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the very _thought_.

 

Fuck’s sake! This was the KID they were talkin’ about here! Richard’s… His…

 

“-or that we’d even _want_ to, obviously, considering the situation. That was my POINT,” the smaller boy shook his head at him in serious exasperation, raven hair flittering about his pale skin, “So just chill out, Zo.”

“Z-…” Richard’s mouth dropped open, before he snapped it shut to glower warningly at the other boy, “Don’t you fucking DARE start actually calling me that! Just because your sister…. Fuck, Jimmy! If any of the others overhear you calling ‘Richie’ that- We’re gonna have a REAL problem… But… anyway… Look, when it comes ta’ the Kid -… Jimmy, you listen ta’ me. I catch you touchin’ him like THAT, an’ I’ll knock your ass out. I’m not even **close** ta’ kidding. Don’t try me.”

Jimmy rolled his large, dark eyes, “Oh, shut up, you big dummy. _You’re_ the one who thought I was… trying to… uh, ya know… with Simmons… when I first…  kissed you, -Which is ridiculous! He’s always been like family to me!-, AND you seemed more freaked out at first that I _meant_ to kiss **you** instead of him-”

“Yeah, well… Whatever. You know why that was, ya lil’ pixie-”

Jimmy let out a quiet huff that the taller boy completely ignored.

“And, anyway,” Richard continued, “shit’s changed, now. He’s _still_ so freakin’ innocent, and, now, _you_ … You. Are. Mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. I _get_ all that. But, look, I just want us to be prepared for the eventuality that he meets someone one day- He’s really a great guy, so he’s _totally_ going to someday. And… you know how you get! I can literally **see** you flipping out, and getting all… you know… like how you get, sometimes, and… um… I- I just want you to promise that you won’t just automatically freak out, and do anything too… uh… reckless… just cause someone decides they like Simmons-”

“Yeaaah…” Richard cut in, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully like he was giving it some honest thought… Buuut, then, he just waved the idea away like it was simply an annoyance, “Fuck that. I ain’t promisin’ shit.”

“Richard!,” the dark-haired boy yelped out in serious aggravation.

“No. I _said_ , NO. It’s pointless, anyway. **He’s** still practically a kid, and… Let’s just be freaking real here, Jimmy. Who the fuck would ever want anything to do with any a’ this? With havin’ a singular relationship with what, -however you look at it, and whatever’s really going on-, basically amounts to a ‘dual-sided’ person... Who the hell would be _crazy_ enough to ever wanna be involved with this wacky shit with me n’ the Kid?... Well… Ya know… other than you?”

“He won’t be a ‘kid’ forever, though, Richard!,” Jimmy argued, “An’ ALL I’m saying is that we need to be ready for when-… W-Wait… Are-… Are you calling me crazy?”

“I mean…” Richard squinted slightly, “maybe a little bit?”

His lil’ pixie princess let out a resigned sigh, “Jerk.”

“I’m _kidding_. I’m just joking, baby. Ah, c’mon, Raven, don’t you start ta’ _pout_ , now,” Richard couldn’t help but smile at the other boy, before continuing to explain patiently enough. For him, anyway, “But seriously, you’re cool with it cause you’ve known us like literally forever. You been practically being raised thinking this crap, -Even though it’s our big ol’ fuckin’ secret!- is pretty frickin’ normal.”

“That’s not-!,” the smaller boy began to protest.

“Yeah?”

“Well…”

“Go on,” Richard goaded, “C’mon, I’m _listening_. Hit me with your rebuttal- Oh, you don’t HAVE one? I’m so _surprised_.”

“Oh, shut up!,” the raven-haired boy retorted, “My point still stands. There could _totally_ be someone out there for Simmons that could deal with… all this… and… and all I want- Well, it’s not that I exactly WANT it, but-”

“Yeah, where’s this coming from, anyway?,” Richard questioned in genuine puzzlement, “I mean, me n’ the Kid are sorta… stuck in the same… ya know… whatever… And, as for YOU. You’re usually such a jealous little son of a bitch so-”

“Me! _You’re_ calling ME jealous?!,” Jimmy squeaked in obvious offense, “What about **you**? Who was it that got insanely _jealous_ just cause some other guy was **talking** to me-”

“Hey, that fuckin’ bitch was _totally_ hittin’ on you, you- you dumbass! He was SO after your little a-,” Richard just talked right over him.

And, Jimmy didn’t hesitate before doing the same, “-And who was it that dragged me off-”

“-ass! An’ that shit ain’t cool! What’d I say? What did I SAY?! You. Are. Mine, brat!”

“-Actually _dragged_ me off to the boy’s bathroom to… uh…”

 

He trailed off as his cheeks pinkened considerably.

 

And, Richard snickered. Pulling his well-known “bipolar” act, and all at once turning playful rather than bitchy, “To what? Hmm? What’d I drag you off ta’ do, huh? Say it. _Saaay_ it. C’mon, Raven,” he murmured lowly in his ear making the other boy shiver against him, “Say, ‘Dragged me off to _**suck** me off_ in an empty stall… _*Snort*_ … Ya know, I never knew _I’mGonnaComeI’mGonnaCome!_ was all one word ‘til I hooked up with your horny lil’ ass.”

Jimmy slapped lightly at him as he huffed indignantly, “Sh-Shut up! I mean it! Stop- Don’t _laugh_ about it, Richard! Those guys almost caught us, you idiot! They totally **would** have if you hadn’t… done that…  thing… If you… If w-we hadn’t….”

 

The smaller boy fell silent. Flushed, and blinking a little too much.

Like he was _still_ in shock.

So obviously remembering…

 

 

**The Academy:**   
**A Month Earlier**

Still So Innocent & Naïve,  
Though Living In The Lion’s Den.  
You Reach Out Your Trusting Hand,  
Again… And, Again…

  
“Hey… _Psst_ … So you’re… Jimmy, right? I heard you’re into like… wood carving? I’ve got an uncle that’s into that crap. You any good?” The boy to the left of them spoke quietly as to not draw any unwanted attention.

 

But, nevertheless, it was _Simmons_ , who was sitting to the right of Jimmy, whose attention he caught first.

And, the redhead couldn’t help the slight grimace (Luckily, the guy wasn’t looking at him.) as he glanced up to see who was talking to one of them.

I mean, they really preferred to keep to themselves… and…

Well… This guy… Oh, boy… He was nothing like them. He was more the type that would be snide toward them, then, to ever be anything else. And, with his height, his already broader shoulders, and strong arms… His body itself, even if not him as a person-

Not that Simmons was looking at his freaking body!

But…

His _physicality_ … it was… strange… It kinda-kinda reminded Simmons of… someone…

He couldn’t quite put his finger on who, though.

But, anyway…

 

It wasn’t more than a moment later that Jimmy looked up from that night’s homework that he and Simmons had been busily finishing up while everyone else quietly bullshitted and took advantage of the teacher being completely absorbed with her datapad.

The dark-haired boy looked a little confused as he turned toward the older student that had sat beside them.

Like he couldn’t understand why this guy was even talking to him in the first place.

He glanced back questioningly at Simmons… who just shrugged a little insecurely.

How-How was he supposed to know what he should say to the dude?!

So, the smaller boy, once again, turned back to this-this _guy_ -

 

An’ ah, son of a-! Jimmy might be like family, but he could be such a naïve _idiot_ , sometimes!-

 

He must’ve decided it was all _totally_ innocent, and that the older blonde-haired boy was simply bored as he’d been stuck in Study Hall after being benched from all sports-related activities until he “learned to quit getting into scuffles in front of God n’ all!”

So, the smaller boy readily, though a little uncomfortably, replied (Like Simmons, he wasn’t the greatest with social interactions outside their little triangle.), “I-I dunno. I’ve been doing it for a pretty long time so… I-I guess I’m… decent at it?”

There was a barely heard snicker from the blonde.

But, then, the older boy (Like he was literally a senior. With Jimmy and Simmons in high school, now, they had non-grade specific classes like Study Hall and Bible Study with upperclassmen, now.) was grinning a little predatorily, “Aw, c’mon. I got a feeling… I bet you can be _real_ good at it.”

 

Ohhh, crap. _This_ wasn’t good.

 

And, Simmons promptly mentally nudged Richard.

 

[“Mmm… Sup, Kid? School over already?,” Richard yawned a little in their head, sounding _beyond_ bored.  
“N-No… It’s… uh… that… that guy?,” Simmons sounded unsure, but Richard had already zeroed in on the seemingly innocuous scene, replayed the last few minutes Simmons had witnessed...  
And, he was NOT happy.]

 

The Kid was RIGHT to have been nervous this time, as the sporto dude was, now, quietly telling Jimmy, -making sure to speak softly enough that his voice didn’t carry to the others in the room-, “Maybe, you oughta show me how to do it, huh? Help me out a little?”

Richard clenched their teeth.

But, Jimmy, much too naturally innocent everywhere but while actually in bed with Richard (And, THAT was really a little more figurative as they’d already gotten a little… creative… about where they screwed around.), just hummed thoughtfully, “Uh… but, wouldn’t it make more sense if your uncle just showed you?”

 

[“Ha! ‘Uncle’. Yeah, right,” Richard grumbled internally to Simmons.  
“Hmm… He said he did, but… do you think he even has a uncle that does wood carving, or-?,” Simmons started to ask.  
“Of course not!,” Richard bit out, before obviously attempting to calm down, “Kid, I gotta deal with this. You cool?”  
“Um! Y-Yeah, I’m, uh-uh… I can be… c-cool?,” Simmons squeaked almost questioningly.  
And, Richard hardly refrained from snorting aloud, “You know what I mean. Now, just chill for a while, and we’ll all… I dunno… do somethin’ you wanna do tonight, alright?”  
“Oh! Oh! Battlestar Galactica Marathon! And, Jimmy has to make meatless lasagna! Oh, and homemade ice cream sandwiches, too! The ones with his chocolate chip peanut butter cookies!”]

 

Simmons immediately set forth his terms. Sounding like a **total** brat making demands on his overindulgent parents.

 

[But, Richard just chuckled affectionately, “Sure, Kid, sure.”]

 

The truth was that… as far as both he and Jimmy were concerned? The poor kid went through and had already gone through _more_ than enough in his relatively short life to warrant any small amount of coddling they could offer.

(Yes, they had thought this already… Before… Before the Kid and they, themselves, had been through… through so much more…)

Not to mention, it was always nice when he actually had an appetite. Jimmy was right. The Kid never ate enough on his own.

 

So, of course, taking all that into account, Richard didn’t begrudge him anything. It wouldn’t even have occurred to him to. (Especially, when everything he wanted was still so innocent and safe…)

In fact, an occurrence of Simmons’ too seldom seen cute yet bratty behavior soothed and steadied him.

 

But, as soon as Richard had the Kid securely tucked away and had done a little more “rewinding” to figure out exactly what had been going on…

Well, shit. Sporto was catching his attention, again. Cause, sure enough, the dumbfuck was sitting there looking all lost by Jimmy’s mention of this “Uncle” that could show him some _wood working_ skills in the pretty boy’s place.

The jockstrap asshole was a total dipshit. Couldn’t even keep up with his own pick-up lines.

Or, maybe, the shithead was still stoned from lunch break?

 

The dude furrowed his brow in confusion, and to Richard’s disgust and surprise he _actually_ asked, “What? Who?”

 

Can you FUCKING BELIEVE that shit?!?!

 

And, the pretty raven-haired boy cocked his head at the blonde, “Your uncle? Right? Didn’t you say you had a-”

 

And, then, there goes JIMMY! Bein’ a too adorable _dumbass!_ Why’d these freaking kids always have to stress Richard out with their bouts of treacherously innocent **_bullshit!_**

 

“Oh! Yeah, sure…” Blondie quickly replied, “But… my, uh… Uncle?... Ya know how it is. He’s just _such_ an asshole. I’d rather learn from you.”

 

Hmph. Richard had to admit that the fucker smoothed it all over pretty quickly and pretty well. He’d _almost_ be a little impressed…

If the son of a bitch wasn’t pulling this shit with HIS Jimmy!

But, to be honest… there was actually more to it than that. It wasn’t just the fact that some other dude was chattin’ up his boy.

 

THAT would piss Richard off enough in and of itself.

  
No. It was that… Richard knew this sporto guy’s type. He knew exactly what he was up to… And, having to watch his Jimmy be so embarrassingly, **dangerously** naïve… It was infuriating! Made him want to put his normally good boy over his knee, and-!-

And...

_Uggghhh_.

 

_Oh, fuck. Ohhh, fuck. Don’t think about that- Dooon’t you think about that! Do NOT pop a boner in the middle of the Kid’s Study Hall, at his fucking **school** , AND in the middle of all this, you horny fuckhead!_, he scolded himself, _Just-Just deal with this like-like YOU, like Richard, -not Richard that pretends to be Simmons, but like you **Richard** -, would deal with this_ (Smash sporto’s face in? Maybe an aneurysm? Drain the fucker dry?). _And, NOT like this new horn-dog version of yourself that’s ruled by his emotions and his dick-_

 

Oh, FUCK it.

 

But, before he could speak up, and “make a flippin’ scene” like Jimmy always warned him not to do…

Jimmy was sorta pulling a Simmons, and going all teacher-mode.

Except with a little soft-voiced, yet underlyingly passionate about his topic, Bob Ross vibe thrown in for his own aesthetic appeal, “Hmm… Well, I _do_ think everyone has the capability to… tap into their artistic side… But, wood-carving it’s… it’s a little different. I don’t think of it as a hands-on learning or teaching thing exactly, to be honest. At least, that’s not the very first stage.”

Jimmy leaned forward. His eyes bright, and hands moving to empathize his points. He’d always been the “talk with your hands” type when he was passionate about something (Which was fucking heartbreaking considering… what came later.), “You have to, first and foremost,” he continued, “be in the right headspace to… to see beyond what’s physically in front of you. It’s like… you have to SEE what’s in the wood, what wants to come out of it… It really kinda starts there. Like everyone else might just see this block of wood, right? But, you see… see what’s really inside it, and you just help it take the shape it was always meant to have…”

 

Right, Raven. Happy little trees n’ shit. Happy little trees.

 

But, Richard couldn’t keep from relaxing some as he smiled to himself.

He really couldn’t help but love this side to his boy.

And…

 

The truth was that he loved to lay all sprawled out next to Jimmy’s desk on the super jumbo bean bag that they’d moved there for just the purpose of being near each other when caught up with other things…

Richard just playing around with some hand-held console while Jimmy worked on his latest project…

*Snort*

Yep, just chillin’ on that… that giant-ass purple and black zebra-striped bean bag… That he and Jimmy’d had too much fun trying to mess around on one particular night a few weeks earlier while Simmons had been asleep for the night…

Jimmy plopping down right on top of Richard, -plucking the game console outta his hands the second he’d paused it, and tossing it over onto the bed-, when his desire for him had overpowered his desire for whittling.

 

This was highly appreciated as I’m sure you can imagine…

 

But, Richard had to say that they’d both realized pretty quickly that anyone who claimed it was fuckin’ **easy** to try to simultaneously get your boyfriend and yourself off while on a _bean bag_ was lying to you.

They’d ended up having to re-arrange themselves so many times that they’d fallen right off the damn thing, and onto the floor… laughing at each other and themselves like a couple a’ loons.…

Only for Jimmy to playfully kiss Richard when he let the smaller boy pin him to the ground (Jimmy got a real charge outta playing the dominant one only to then be overpowered and made to submit- But, shh! Jimmy thought that was still a secret at this point.), and when Richard had inevitably wrestled his pretty boy back underneath him… well… they’d, of course, ended up finishing what they’d started… only right down on the cold wooden floorboards…

Slender bodies pressed so close… slim limbs wrapped so tight- so _tight_ around each other… Panting and moaning and laughing to the point of nearly _giggling_ like they were high as fuck… high on each other…

 

Hmm… yeah, uh… but, anyway…

 

His _point_ had been that… it was always an experience… watching his boy quickly, with clean, precise lines, sketch out what he saw in his mind’s eye when he looked at a certain piece of wood… He always preferred working with wood. Claiming it was better than stone or bronze because it was more corporeal. Vulnerable to time and decay… and, somehow, that made it all feel more real, more… just _human_ , somehow…

Sometimes, hearing Jimmy ponder over such things… it really made Richard wonder and _worry_ about how much his Raven subconsciously actually remembered from all those years before… well, he’d worry until he got too distracted with watching those steady, nimble artist hands start to _create_.

Even for someone who claimed to not ascribe to such things, Richard had to admit that it was almost a- a spiritual experience. To watch this small-statured lovely boy take a simple block of wood, and turn it into something beautiful or fascinating.

Or even frightening.

*Sigh*

Fuck, he loved the hell outta his talented little nerd… And, yeah, yeah, ha-fucking-ha, he was such a mother fuckin’ sap. You think he didn’t know that? Seriously, it was a goddamn problem, and-

 

Wait.

He’d had to re-focus here.

Cause now jockstrap was talking to his Jimmy again, and-

 

“Mm… Sure, dude,” the asshole obviously just blew off everything Jimmy’d been saying, and asked, “But, you could still show me the basics, right? C’mon, man. I’d really owe you one. So, whaddya say? It’s Friday so… you doin’ anything tonight?”

  
And, the slight smile that had still lingered from memories of him and his boy rolling around on the freakin’ _floor_ … panting, but still laughing breathlessly while they tore at each other’s clothes like a couple a’ goddamn animals… instantly dropped off Richard’s face.

He wanted to **_growl_** like a possessive dog or a large wildcat.

A… puma, if you will. (Who may not roar, but they can growl and hiss like a son of a bitch, lemme tell you.)

  
“C’mon, dude,” the older blonde boy continued to cajole, “It’s gonna be the weekend, anyway-”

  
Weekend…

That was THEIR time. Both Richard’s and Jimmy’s alone, and their family time together with the Kid-

Mother fucker!

  
Finally, Jimmy replied.

“Y-Yes, I’m actually… busy tonight…” Jimmy glanced absently back at Simmons, who he likely thought was still finishing up the homework for that night…

 

-They always got their work done ahead of time so they could all spend as much time together as possible-

 

And, his mouth dropped open when he saw that it wasn’t _Simmons_ , but **_Richard_** , that was there, now.

Kicked back in the chair with a mild expression that would fool anyone but those who actually knew him.

An expression so different from Simmons’ average two go-to school modes. His edgy ants-in-your-pants ‘Ew-ew-ew! I know the answer! I know it! I know it!- But… I don’t want any direct attention so I can’t say… Ah! Frustrating!’ face. And, his scowly, yet, haughty ‘Can we _leave_ , yet? These uninteresting, small-minded people are sooo freaking beneath us… Hey, let’s play D&D when we go home!- Shut up, Richard, _you’re freaking **playing**_ ’ face.

Yeah, none of that was anywhere to be seen. But rather, one very startled lil’ pixie princess (Hey! It was okay if Richard said it or thought it, but not if anyone else did!) was graced with a slight cock of the eyebrow and an underlyingly sarcastic smirk that was ALL typical Richard and that flat-out said even without the words, ‘Yeah, bitch. And, you _know_ I hate Study Hall second only to Morning Worship. So, fuckin’ _thanks_ for this.’

  
That sardonic look that Jimmy knew so well.

  
“Well, tomorrow, then… If tonight’s so _busy_ for you,” the sporto was getting, uh, a little insistent, and **more** than a little pissed off at the idea that someone, male or female, wasn’t jumping at the chance to bask in all his athletic, sporto glory.

“Uh… I…” Jimmy wasn’t even looking at the guy, anymore. He was so beneath his notice, especially when part of their little trio was caught up in their own little world.

 

His and Richard’s eyes were locked onto each other...

 

But, Richard could still see outta his peripheral vision, right past Jimmy’s shoulder, that the sporto was about to snap.

And, he saw the dude start to reach out. As if about to get ahold of the much smaller, younger boy’s delicate-boned arm, and _forcibly_ turn him back to face him.

It took **everything** in Richard to not knock the fucker out right then and there… Right in the middle of Simmons’ and Jimmy’s class.

THAT wouldn’t go over very well.

So instead…

Richard quickly stood.

  
And, it was _him_ that grabbed Jimmy.

-By the upper arm, though. And, more pointedly than forcefully-

And, pulled him straight up and out of his chair.

  
“Yeah, we got shit we gotta do. For… my Father or whatever,” Richard, -sounding _nothing_ like Simmons, but at least trying to take the other students around them somewhat into account-, told the dude lowly and evenly enough.

Although the look in his eyes just _dared_ the asshole to open his mouth.

The guy obviously wanted to. The fuckheads in the academy used to a lot… Thinking they were talking to Simmons when Richard got a little too riled up and started to “reveal himself” as a certain someone liked to call it (Fuck sake, Jimmy! That sounded like he was whipping out his fuckin’ _dick_ rather than just momentarily failing to stay within the expected parameters of the Kid’s persona while amongst **them**.), and the bastards dared to bring up what (Or-Or…who…) had been deemed unmentionable…

 

_“Fuck you, pretty boy. You aren’t your **brother**. That asshole’s long gone. We aren’t scared of YOU, little bitch.” _

 

But… yeah… they’d learned to mostly shut their fuckin’ mouths. Maybe they figured Richard had taught Simmons to fight before he’d “disappeared”, or maybe they just figured being wildly unpredictable and potentially dangerous ran in the Simmons family...

Who knew.

Regardless, the dude glared… but nodded curtly.

 

Then, Richard was pulling Jimmy outta the room.

Past the teacher who nodded absently without looking up when he murmured (Though this time it made him wince.) something about them having been tasked with “taking care of something for my Father”.

 

In his “Simmons voice” this time, of course.

 

And, he was practically dragging the other boy, -who wasn’t fighting him, but simply could hardly keep up-, down the school’s empty hallways. His long legs and rapid speed-walk causing the shorter boy to have to nearly jog in his attempt to keep at least almost abreast of him.

Though he was still a bit behind.

 

Down the stairs they went…

Past the back entrance.

Down the main hall-

 

Where Richard stopped so suddenly-

  
That Jimmy crashed right into him.

But, the normally expressive boy only let out a soft puff of air. Which may seem surprising, but you see, people like Jimmy and Simmons had learned from a very young age to not be very “dramatic” or animated or “sensitive” while outside their own individual circles. (Or, triangles, in their current case.)

 

Richard instantly released the smaller boy… only to wrap an arm around his shoulders in order to steady him.

And, Jimmy looked up at him in surprise. He obviously couldn’t believe Richard was touching him like that _at school_ (Even if it was quite innocent.), but, knowing him, he also was definitely curious as to why Richard had stopped so abruptly-

 

It only seemed to take a second for Jimmy to get it.

 

And, then, he was stiffening and instinctively leaning closer into Richard’s side as if for protection.

Obviously realizing that they had been literally steps away from the camera that was trained on this particular hallway (Monitoring those that entered or exited _this_ specific area.)… not to mention a stride an’ a half off from passing Sandra’s office.

Sandra… Who was the school secretary... amongst other… other things…

The extremely large-statured, normally soft-spoken, but incredibly mean-spirited woman whose nickname was, “Eagle Eyes” was someone it was best to never come into direct contact with, and…

 

Son of a bitch.

 

Richard couldn’t believe his luck. Normally, she’d be out of the office at this time, but-

Nope… She was there, alright.

An’ well, fuck. He guessed he had to take care of _this_ crap, now.

 

Dammit! He hated when he had to do any a’ this shit! Even the littlest bit of it! He always tried to avoid it, _especially_ since… since…

This thing with…

Him and the Kid…

Fuck!

Would he EVER be able to escape this side to himself? This _part_ of himself?

He’d rather physically kick some ass any day of the week. It was simply _vastly_ preferable.

He _always_ wanted and tried to attempt that first… Attempted to do… do something that…

That anyone else could do, too.

If they were also, ya know, all… unstable n’ volatile… but not _different_ n’ shit.

It just seemed… cleaner… Less… cheaty… and less fucking … freakish.

 

But in this instance, he had no frickin’ choice.

So…

So, he just did what he had to fucking do.

 

And, it sucked SO much.

Because, he could feel Jimmy watching him closely as his face surely went blank…

 

And oh, he’d always **hated** when he had to get the boys involved in all this! Even secondhand.

He’d hated it when they were babies, and then kids, and-

And, he hated it now!

He wanted them, at least, to get to be _normal_. To never struggle with the questions, the confusion, and the self-loathing that came hand in hand with being so mother fucking…

Different.

 

But-

It had to be done.

 

Even as he felt his little boyfriend (His secret brother in The Blood.) watching him-

The Kid’s, and currently his own now, bright green eyes (Rather than the so rare telltale azure blue that had screamed his origins out to the fucking world.) went a bit distant…

And-

 

Feedback squealed out from the intercom good ol’ “Eagle Eyes” used for school announcements.

Richard thought of grabbing a signal, of playing a sexy tune out the thing for his boy, but…

Decided not to push it.

 

His-His mother had always laughed her high-pitched nutty laugh when he’d “made a spectacle” just for the sake of doing so, but…

He’d known her well enough to know that she worried that he’d eventually push it too far, or not be as cautious as someone like him had to be…

 

She’d always loved him so much…

She’d loved all of them…

His mother… Their mother… The one who had truly given them life…

All three of them…

Even if the youngest two of their trinity recalled nothing of it.

Uhgghhh, it _hurt_. It BURNED. It fucking **ached**.

Richard missed her- Missed her-Miss her-

 

“Ah, Cheese-n’-Rice!,” ‘Eagle Eyes’ sang out lowly in quiet annoyance, her voice snapping Richard back to his current circumstances.

 

And, Richard was blinking slowly… then, dropping his arm off Jimmy’s shoulders, he grasped ahold of the other boy right above his elbow so he could hurry him past the office where the school secretary was now turned away from them.

Too busy messing with the intercom to take any notice.

 

As soon as they were safely past the door, Richard paused to glance up at the camera, then, down at the smaller teen.

And, making a circular motion with the pointer and middle fingers of his free hand, he winked as, feeling more like himself, more _steady_ , he mouthed, ‘Loop-de-loop, baby boy.’

 

In other words, the camera was on a loop now, and hadn’t and wouldn’t capture their images.

 

The first time Richard had pulled his trick, with one of the cameras specifically, in front of Jimmy and just automatically said, ‘Loop-de-loop’, like he used to say to his… his mom… back when he’d successfully done that little “trick”, successfully completed that one too simplistic little task, little “game”, in particular in preparation for the _real_ shit out in the field… Jimmy had frowned thoughtfully and asked, “Loop-de-… You mean like the SpongeBob tie your shoelaces song?”

And, Richard had laughed his fucking _ass_ off. Insisting playfully when he’d finally caught his breath, “Fuck, Raven! You. Baby. Geek! Quit tryin’ to throw my Kid off his nerd throne! He’s worked damn hard, and _earned_ his title as King of all the-the- “ And, then, he’d burst out laughing, again, unable to continue…

 

However, this time around, Jimmy simply stared at him wide-eyed, muttering lowly, “Frickin’ show-off!-”

Before he nearly inaudibly, but still vehemently maintained, “And, didn’t I say NO. Voodoo. Crap. At. SCHOOL!”

But, Richard paid him no heed, and instead chose to carry on with hurrying his little brat along the school’s long, -and still thankfully empty but for them-, lower-level corridors.

As soon as they were far enough away to be unquestionably out of “Eagle Eye’s” earshot, Jimmy whispered fervently, “I can’t BELIEVE you! If Simmons ever finds out about you doing… th-that stuff-!-”

 

-Hmph… Typical. It was just so like his sweet baby, so damn _Jimmy_ to focus on getting worked up about _the Kid_ , and how something would affect him, when it obviously currently affected, confused and worried only him himself-

 

“If he finds out about… those… those _things_ you somehow do… sometimes… He’s gonna flip!”

 

And, Richard winced slightly.

Cause he realized… shit… he’d really done it, again, hadn’t he?

Was it really any wonder, - considering the environment they were in, where demons and demonic possession was a common theme, and there Richard was, on top of everything else, periodically showing seemingly unexplainable “powers” -, that Richard’s refusal to be fucking honest about their messed up situation eventually led to some… momentary… misunderstandings?

Fuck.

He didn’t mean to-to hide OR reveal so much… It was just that sometimes Richard was so busy BEING himself that he forgot to hide who… or what… he really was from himself, let alone Jimmy. Who was so a part of him that it was too damn easy to drop that oh so essential façade.

And, he’d just…

Just-

Goddammit! He **knew** it was his own fucking fault for keeping such huge-ass secrets (Even, sometimes, from… himself.), but he had JUST wanted to **protect** them!

All of them.

But-

It was seriously like a part of Richard always seemed to almost forget what… what it must’ve looked like when he did any of this shit… this-this “Voodoo” shit… even the tiniest bit of it… and then refused to explain to Jimmy (Who he _couldn’t_ simply blank out certain things from.) HOW or why he was able to do it-

Even, if it was mostly because he just wanted to shield the poor guy from anymore existential crises. From his _own_ true origins, let alone Richard’s or Simmons’…

Richard didn’t think either of the boys would be able to deal with it at all.

-Especially, when you took into account how the kids, -Simmons, Jimmy-, they didn’t even remember all the crap from before they’d been brought to the compound. Didn’t even remember “Auntie Em”. (God, that sounded embarrassingly lame. Ha-Fucking-Ha, Mom.) Even thought they’d actually met basically right when they’d been let out of the facility- that they recalled nothing about… Which THAT couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Knowing what he did later on, _of course_ , Richard wished he’d simply bit the proverbial bullet from the start, and been honest with not only Jimmy, but himself as well (Maybe still not the Kid quite then, though…) about who and what they all were, but…

 

“Richard? Are you-you okay? Did you… over-… overdo it or something?,” Jimmy sounded worried.

 

And, holy fuck, it was scary as hell. To think that, even then, wiped of past knowledge and prior to being reintroduced to the truth, Jimmy instinctually understood how it worked.

At least on its basest of levels.

The give and the take. The outpouring of strength and its resulting weakness.

It had always ate at Richard, even though it was inevitable.

After all, they’d always been connected to each other.

All three of them.

They’d always bolstered and augmented each other’s-

 

“Richard!”

“Ah… yeah, right…. No, it’s cool… That- that was nothin’. Not even worth talkin’ about,” Richard muttered under his breath. Remembering not only where they were, but also realizing that he’d slowed their hurried pace down to a completely distracted meander, “Ya know I could do that shit in my sleep.”

Jimmy sighed, “Is that supposed to make it better? If you ever get caught- It won’t just be _you_ that’s caught you know! What about Richie?!-”

“I-… Eugh! Enough, already!,” All of a sudden, Richard simply didn’t wanna _deal_ with all that right now. Not with all the **fuckery** that had just been going on in mother fuckin’ Study Hall to worry about! He pulled the other boy back into a quicker pace as he snapped out, “I’m not in the mood ta’ be bitched at right now, Raven. Not after all that shit-”

 

It seemed Richard had unintentionally borrowed Simmons’ famous scowl. He could FEEL it creeping across what was presently his face.

 

“Wh- WHAT shi-… Eugh! I don’t even know why you got mad in the first place!,” Jimmy complained, “That guy was just _talking_ to me! And, _I_ should be the mad one! You **promised** not to… you know! Not at school! Don’t you understand that they think you’re _Simmons_ the ‘pretty-boy self-conscious nerd’, and when **you** come out in front of the others acting all ‘cool dude punk’-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sa-… Right, Jimmy,” Richard rolled his eyes, his lips curving up a bit, “… Right. ‘Cool dude punk’. Yeah, that’s _totally_ what I’m goin’ for here. How’d a lil’ nerd-bot kid like you EVER figure it out?”

Jimmy tilted his head up to stick his tongue out at him like a real mature son of a bitch.

“ _* Snort *_ Anyway, I’m with the Kid, now,” Richard actually admitted as he went on, causing Jimmy to cock his head this time and blink up at him in surprise, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process…

 

Richard momentarily released his arm to encircle his waist, steadying him (And, giving him a loving lil’ squeeze while he was at it.), before getting back ahold of his arm so they could continue on their way.

 

In an affectionate tone that _almost_ covered what an asshole thing it was to just put out there, Richard went on to say, “…so I don’t think it’s physically possible for me to be all that ‘cool’, anymore. He’d just fuck it up with some nerd shit.”

The smaller boy groaned at his words, but Richard just chuckled.

 

And, apparently, choosing to completely ignore what he’d said in favor of _bitching_ , Jimmy whined, “So, what-what’s going on, anyway? Where- Where are we even _going?_ ”

“To the bathroom,” Richard answered shortly. Tightening his grip on him, and walking a bit quicker.

“The… bathroom? What are you- Ya know, I don’t even understand how you’re awake right now… You _always_ sleep through Study Hall.”

“Yeah, well, Simmons woke me up to tell me you were-”

“What?!,” Jimmy actually _squealed_ before remembering where they were, and once again lowering his voice, “Don’t you freaking dare lie to me! I don’t _even_ believe Simmons would tattle on me to you when I wasn’t even doing anything wron-!”

“Dammit, Jimmy! He wasn’t telling, or ‘tattling’, on _you_. He was warning me about that prick that was all up in your-”

“ _What-ever_. He was just asking me about **wood carving**. I mean, yeah, it was kinda weird, but totally innocent! You’re both waaay too paranoid.”

 

No.

No, it was _Jimmy_ who wasn’t paranoid enough. HE was just too damn innocent when it came to this stuff. He simply didn’t understand how shit operated. Even Simmons was more cautious.

These assholes, like the one interested in Jimmy’s “woodcarving” (Fuckin’ cliché bullshit! Like some backwards version of “Let me show you my etchings” or some crap.)… fuckers could appear so outwardly virtuous, and yet _actually_ be such repressed horny sons a bitches. Dudes that would secretly latch on to some sensitive “girly-boy”, play into the poor kid’s emotions-

And, all for the sole purpose of gettin’ their “dick wet.”

The “girly-boy” would be lucky if at the end of it all, when the asshole user (Or, his family.) found a proper girl for him, he just broke his heart after using his body, and then dumped him with threats that he’d better keep his damn mouth shut.

That was if they were lucky.

But, if they weren’t so lucky…

 

What could Richard even say to his sweet boy? What could he say that wouldn’t scare his poor, naïve Jimmy half to death? Could he really tell him about the horror stories of religious jocks that cozied up to pretty girly-boys,- sometimes even in the guise of only being “friends” at first-, only to go insane and beat them unrecognizable (Or… sometimes… even to-to… death.) when their homophobe friends caught on, and called them out on hanging around a “fag” or a “tranny” or a “drag princess”…

The violence against boys like Jimmy, and even Simmons (Whose height gave him some advantage over pretty little guys like Jimmy, but… still… with how attractive Simmons was… in that… _that_ way…Thank god, Richard could at least now keep the Kid safe from such things.), in a bigoted community like theirs… violence often perpetrated by boys just like the one that’d been “just talking” to his Jimmy…

It was a very real issue.

And, all because one of **them** “CAN’T be gay.”

Hell, they’d rather disfigure and even-even kill the person they’d been messing around with than admit that they could even be bi-curious or whatever…

 

It seemed hard to believe that all this still existed at all in this day and age, but…

Perhaps, there would always be these kind of fucking problems. As long as some fuckheads declared their people the _best_ people, and therefore felt they should get to dictate right from wrong based off their own prejudices, that had many times been passed down from generation to generation…

Then, there would likely always be instances where naïve pretty “fag” boys and tough tomboy “dyke” chicks, and everyone in-between, fell in with the wrong crowd, and paid a horrifying price for their supposed “sins”.

  
Of course, the problems went deeper than all that, and were multi-faceted, and SO not just focused on this one topic… but this issue in particular was what Richard was fixated on, at the moment.

It was what affected his life, and the lives of those he loved.

But, despite that…

Look… it wasn’t that Richard thought these things in particular would happen with Jimmy. Or, that Jimmy would fall into this dude’s little trap, and be all… fucking _seduced_ , or some shit…

No, that wasn’t the case.

  
After all, they were together, and Richard knew how devoted the smaller boy was to him.

But, he could imagine what a guy like sporto would do if he’d been allowed to get Jimmy alone for a little one on one lesson that Jimmy had innocently believed to actually be about freakin’ _woodworking_ (Like honest to frickin’ goodness woodworking. Not haHA! **Wood** working. No.)… Ah, fuck… Just-just fuck… Then, only to have the smaller boy gently turn him down… Making sporto realize that HE’D looked like the “fucking fairy faggot” in this scenario…

Seeing how aggressive the guy had started to get _already_ (As an periodically aggressive ass son of a bitch himself, Richard recognized the signs.) just when Jimmy had gotten distracted while the dude had been tryin’ to seal the deal… and knowing about how the bastard was already known to be a violent asshole…

Jimmy would not have gotten away unscathed.

  
But, could Richard really bear to tell his sweet boy such things? To unveil even more darkness to someone who already lived part of their life in hiding and fear?

No.

He would protect both boys from this as well (He already hid so much- so damn much from them as it was, but…). He’d protect them from more of the ugly truths, the dark, hidden side of this world they lived in, for as long as he could.

Let Jimmy, and even the Kid, think it was all about what a possessive, jealous mother fucker he was.

I mean, that WAS true, too, after all.

  
“And, hey!,” Jimmy distracted Richard from his troubled thoughts as he blurted out, as if he’d just thought of it, “I-I don’t even know how you got the teacher to just let us both leave Study Hall, anyway. I know she was distracted but-… What is mentioning your dad like a secret weapon? A power-up, or someth- Ah! Alright, already! Stop _yanking_ me! What if someone sees? This **totally** violates the six inch rule-”

“Shut up,” Richard retorted mildly.

  
Dumb. That didn’t even apply to them at this point.

  
“Hey!,” Jimmy protested.

  
Of course, if **they** had known, -or paid _attention_ to-, the way some of even the more thought to be “straight” boys and girls in their community, starved for human contact and affection, touched those of their same sex… maybe the six inch rule wouldn’t have just applied to the _opposite_ sex for so long…

  
“Look, Raven,” Richard steered him around the trophy case. He’d blown out the mic they’d hidden there (Hidden in hopes of catching rival… teams plans and/or… accolades? What the fuck?) the other day in a fit of annoyance at the thought of how _retarded_ such a thing even was… and a quick sweep confirmed they hadn’t repaired, or likely even noticed, the damage, yet. So, it was still cool to talk openly, “No one’s gonna see shit. They’re all either back in Study Hall or at soccer practice.”

“Oh… Okay… Well, why are we both going to the bathroom, though?,” the smaller boy asked in genuine confusion, “I don’t have ta’ pee, right now-”

 

And… Richard, honestly, didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, -maybe, all that shit with sporto had really put him more on edge than he had realized-, but he glanced down at his little naïve boyfriend and replied blandly, “That’s good. I’m not into watersports.”

 

“Water-? What’s that have to do with any-… Like water polo?,” Jimmy asked innocently.

“Ha!,” Now, THAT got a nice snicker outta him. His boy… Such a sweet, silly little bird, “Yeah, Raven. Like, _water polo_. Jus’ not my style. No hate, though. Whatever people wanna do in their ‘pool’… I mean, I _guess_ that’s their fuckin’ business, right?”

“Uhhh…” Jimmy’s cute little nose wrinkled as he tried to work out what Richard was talking about, “riggghhht?”

 

They’d _finally_ arrived at the boy’s bathrooms.

-Goddamn Academy, and it’s windy long-ass halls-

And, Richard was quickly ushering the smaller boy inside-

 

Only to then leave him right within the entryway so he could physically check that the area was secure.

I mean, yeah, there were no other sigs in here or in the immediate vicinity other than the three of theirs, but…

Didn’t hurt to double-check, ya know?

 

And, look… Jimmy’s dad might’ve gone batshit back in the day at the idea of mics anywhere _near_ any bathrooms, and nixed the idea with **extreme** prejudice… despite Senior’s paranoid insistence that that was SO the place people would meet-up whilst in the midst of plotting something-

Ah, for Christ’s sake. They’d both been so drunk n’ amped that day…

And, Richard’d been high off his fuckin’ ass himself… Back when he was still… still just himself… Surprised he could even remember anything from those particular wacked out times… even when he let himself… (Christ, his mother would’ve gone batshit, -well, **more** batshit-, herself if she’d known about him sometimes doing… that kinda stuff… She, -who was someone who did not approve of violence… “unless it’s _war-ran-ted!_ ”-, woulda slapped the _fuck_ outta him. )

But, he’d always just been so damn **desperate** to forget the most recent bullshit he’d had to take part in until he could get back to his Kid and the other kid that he and his mother had secretly linked to them and saved from truly being “scrapped” as a baby (Imagine if good ol’ loyal James knew that’d been scheduled to be done to “Triple J” regardless of what’d been promised, and that it was _really_ only Richard’s mother’s underhanded intervention, and the combined forces and subterfuge of Richard Jr., still a child, then, but a powerful one, and his beloved genius of a mother, Emily Grey, that had stopped it, at all!). That other kid that had instinctively looked out for Richie in Richard’s stead while he had to be away… One of their created, connected three…

But… anyway…

 

Regardless, though it seemed James had steered Senior away from that lunacy with the mic placements extending through-out the Church’s compounds, places of worship, and Academies _bathrooms_ , it WAS still the old man who made all final decisions on anything relating to security… and punishment… so…

 

“What-What are you doing?,” Jimmy shifted uncertainly from foot to foot in front of the bright blue door, “Are you gonna yell at me? Is that why we’re in here? You _seriously_ couldn’t wait til’ after school?”

 

Richard didn’t answer him.

 

“Th-This is super dumb! I- I can’t even believe the double-standard crap you pull! What about how you flirted with those girls- actually _FLIRTED_ , not just talked like I was doing-, that time your guys’ dad flipped out, and made Simmons join the girl’s team or ‘Women’s League’- whatever it’s called. And, don’t you give me that _‘ those girls woulda kicked his ass if I didn’t butter ‘em up ’_ bull! That whole thing **traumatized** Simmons anyway! Yeesh! Poor guy. You KNOW girls scare him to death. I can’t count how many times he freaked out to me about that one girl that kept slapping his a- butt, and winking at him after you pulled that- that CRAP!...”

 

Yeah, yeah. Nag, baby, nag.

 

“Richard? Are you even listening to me?... Answer me, already! C’mon, it’s so obviously empty in here… Ah, for frick’s sake!,” the smaller boy huffed in annoyance, “You really gonna _double_ check, now?”

 

I mean, it was really _triple_ check (If you counted checkin’ for sigs, anyway.) at that point, but, hey, who the fuck’s really countin’, right?

 

“Look, I don’t even know why you’re so worked up. I was _just_ talking to the gu-EyeEye!”

 

Jimmy had decided ta’ get all squeaky, due to Richard stalking right back over to him, and just snatching him up, and tossing him over his shoulder the second he had conclusively _ensured_ they were alone.

 

And, he carried the smaller boy, squirming and sputtering, over into the handicap accessible bathroom, and kicked the door, -that he had left ajar while checking the perimeter-, shut behind them.

Backing up a bit to order, “Lock it.”

And, although Jimmy did automatically reach out to obey and slide the bar across, he still squealed, “Put. Me. _Down_. you freaking giant! Are you **_crazy?!_** ”

 

Ohhh… THAT wasn’t fuckin’ very smart now was it?

 

Richard instantly ran the hand that wasn’t holding his boy slowly, so slowly up between his legs, up his inner thigh… Turning his head, and nuzzling the little bottom that Jimmy’s position tossed overtop his shoulder offered him access to. Just nosing into that firm, yet, supple unfortunately clothed flesh.

Feeling his boy’s so slight muscles tense in anticipation under his silent attack...

And, the second, Jimmy let out a soft, submissive whimper…

 

Richard BIT right into that so cute little ass that was _his_. All **HIS**.

 

The smaller boy hardly choked off a shriek. Instead, thoughtlessly swearing under his breath, “ _Shit!_ That’s gonna bruise. ”

Richard, who was busily nipping and kissing around the assaulted area, demanded, “Don’t you EVER call me or the Kid crazy, Jimmy, and don’t ever let me catch you-”

“Sorry, Lord,” Jimmy mumbled softly.

“-catch you thinkin’ about sluttin’ it up with anyone els-… Wait… Did you seriously just ask god for forgiveness for accidently _swearing_ right before I’m gonna BLOW you?”

“Uhhh… heh-heh,” the smaller boy started to chuckle a little weakly, sounding quite embarrassed… “Yeaaah, that’s-that’s, uh… kinda silly, hu-…” Until, it hit him, “W-Wait… Y-You can’t- We can’t! Not HERE, Richard!”

“Shhh… Quiet down,” Richard ordered softly, “You wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

 

And, Jimmy trembled…

But, Richard felt him nod against his back.

 

And, he almost thought he could feel the heat radiating off his boy’s face even through his shirt and that fucking obnoxious school- logoed sweater, as Jimmy rested his cheek against him and mumbled… like even upside down n’ thrown overtop Richard’s shoulder he just had to say it… to let him know… “But… But, I… I don’t know why you would even say… I wouldn’t even _want_ to… t-to ‘ slut it up’ with anyone else. I’ve only ever even thought of… being with… I only want _you_ … like-like that. You know that…”

“Hmm… I know, Raven…” Richard murmured softly to him, rubbing his cheek affectionately against his sweet baby’s sweet little ass, while still busily running his fingers up and down between the other boy’s slack-covered thi-

 

Wait…

 

He pressed the pads of his fingers a little harder against the fabric and-

That wolfish, predatory grin suddenly flashed across Richard’s face as he realized a little something… interesting.

And he asked, still gently stroking up and down Jimmy’s inner thighs, and keeping to the same tone as to not startle the other boy with his wicked awesome insight, “Sooo…. You … you wearin’ your sexy stockings under here?…”

A small sound of _total_ liar’s negation escaped him before Jimmy tried to obfuscate, “Uh, w-well, they’re-they’re just kinda actually like… kn-knee… socks? If you think about it?... Uh, like, um… some… g-guys wear for… s-soccer?…”

 

Richard smiled a little. Oh, his Jimmy, and his little games. He really still struggled with such comparatively small things even just between them two. Even when they were locked away in their own private world which was currently the one time and place where such things were accepted and safe for him…

Richard had to work on chilling him out while still pushing him. That was just their dynamic together.

 

“Is that right? My sweet baby got some ‘soccer socks’ that go up to mid-thigh, huh? And, that are all soft and silky? They got the lace at the top, too, this time? Or, is it the bows? Heh. Sure, Raven, sure. I’m _sure_ I’ve seen **lots** of the dudes wearin’ those out on the field n’ it jus’ _slipped_ my mind… Oh, and I didn’t think my Jimmy Bean played soccer, anyway...”

Jimmy whined at his mild teasing, but Richard just shushed him again, humming appreciatively as he ran a hand up under one of his pants legs, now. Pulling them up so he could feel and see those silky “soccer socks”… black ones this time… that looked so good on his boy.

“Mmm… Stop whining. You know I love this shit. Looks so fuckin’ good on you… Am I gonna find any more hidden silky surprises today, sweet baby?”

“…Uh-Um… Well, n-no… Not, uh… Just-Just the…” Jimmy seemed to steady himself, to make himself say- to fucking OWN it, “Just the st-stockings.”

“Hmm. Think those are my favorite, anyway,” Richard whispered. So damn proud of his boy that he was oblivious as to how tender his tone had turned.

 

And, he was dropping the smaller teen slowly off his shoulder. Starting to slide him down his body (He had **really** had to learn to mentally connect with the idea that this was currently his body in moments like these.) so Jimmy could wrap himself tightly around him.

 

Lithe form now pressed perfectly to his.

Those slim legs snug around his hips… arms tight around his neck while he tucked his dark head under his chin…

 

And, Richard felt that sweet little mouth, -that had started covering his neck in kisses and frisky lil’ nips-, drop open against his throat in a wordless gasp as he swiftly moved them forward…

To press the other boy’s back to the blue tiled wall so he could start to grind up against him.

His Jimmy instantly moving, rocking along with him...

 

They were both already so hard, so ready. It never took any real time to work each other up.

They had assumed it was because they were trapped within these horny teenage bodies, but… it would always be this way with them.

 

Even when they were so broken, and had to literally teach- to _re-train_ themselves to be together in this way again…

Even later when they were finally together again after so very long of being apart, and everything was so near to perfect despite being so incredibly changed… but then, once again, filled with moments of fear… fear for themselves, and for their Simmons… and for the little family the Kid and Grif had, -with a little help-, created…

 

In spite of all that would eventually come to be their new reality, the one thing that Richard and Jimmy could always hold on to… as a constant… was that endless hunger for each other and the forever connection that they shared. No matter what they faced, what was to come, or what they struggled with then and now… that, at least, was never in question.

 

But, within this particular treasured moment together (That would culminate with what finally irrevocably forever linked them.), Jimmy was already lost to the pleasure.

Forgetting where they were. Lips parted as he breathlessly and continually moaned.

And, Richard once again captured those pretty pink lips with his own as he firmly seized his boy’s hips. Taking full control of his Jimmy’s erratic rutting so he could synchronize their movements. Rocking him hard up on and alongside him…

Feeling the sweet sounds he wrung out of his Raven vibrate into his mouth as he sucked on his tongue…

 

Fuck, it felt so damn good… So mind-numbingly right- delicious- _perfect_ … Hadn’t even gotten out of their pants, yet… But, fuck, he always felt so-so fucking good…

 

Jimmy obviously thought the same because his arms tightened around him, fingers sinking into deep red hair… messing up that low tail to scratch lightly at Richard’s instantly tingly scalp-

 

_“Jimmy…”_ Whispered on an exhale of near reverence.

 

And, the sound of Richard breathing out his name like a holy prayer seemed to set the smaller boy on fucking _fire_ , and-

He threw his head back with an accompanying shudder of absolute unadulterated delight…

 

Just to smack his pretty lil’ skull right up against the wall.

 

“Oww-ooouch,” he gritted out quietly. Squeezing his eyes tightly and momentarily shut in response to the sharp and sudden pain.

And, Richard froze in the middle of grinding Jimmy up against that damnably cold blue, blue tile to cry out in instant agitation, “Dammit! Fuck! Careful, baby! Don’t jus’ knock yourself out, you little nut!”

His concern made him sound quite snappy.

And, it wasn’t that that was anything new…

 

But, still the smaller boy went silent, motionless.

 

Richard would’ve expected him to scold him. To ask him, “What the he- heck are you thinking?!”, and to tell him to, “Keep it down, for f- frick’s sake!” in Jimmy’s patented near-swear speak that he had down to a science during this particular timeframe. (At least, he never pulled a “Cheese n’ Rice”. _Then_ , Richard woulda had ta’ smack some pretty lil’ goody-goody ass.)

But, instead… when Richard moved back to look at him…

Those mesmerizing dark eyes stayed closed.

 

And, to be frank as fuck?

It made Richard nervous.

Jimmy hadn’t hit his head that damn hard!

 

Richard’s fingers, which had been digging worriedly into his sweet boy’s hips, now loosened their hold. So he could run his hands up the lean lines of the other boy’s body, and cradle his face in his palms.

And, of course, he _meant_ to whisper kindly, but instead it ended up coming out as a demand. God, his self-control was complete garbage, jus’ sheer shit, “Jimmy? You’re alright, okay?... Jimmy Bean?... C’mon, sweet baby… Raven, _you fucking look at me_.”

But, when the smaller boy’s eyes did obediently open to meet his…

 

Richard saw it.

What he could hardly bear to see. What he fucking _hated_ to see.

 

He saw the recognition, and the sorrow that flashed across his boy’s face.

Saw that those so dark eyes had grown damp with unshed tears…

 

Before he could even say another word to him, Jimmy was whispering, “… You used to… you called me that before… when you… when you were still just… you…”

Richard _almost_ thought of trying to break the tension by saying something like, _‘…Huh… well that’s kinda a fuckin’ weird thing to get all sentimental over-… ya know, me havin’ called you a little nut before’_ …

But, ultimately, he knew that the best thing to do was to distract him.

 

Before the smaller boy started up with needling him about how, _‘But, Richard, if we could just get in touch with your mom, somehow… I’m sure she’d be able to help… If anyone can fix this, it’s her! Maybe she can even find a way to-!’_

Yeah- No. They didn’t need to go there. Jimmy just didn’t understand the dangers involved…

For all of them.

 

So, Richard focused instead on cupping the back of his boy’s neck, his soft cheek… A thumb ghosting over his skin…

And, tipping his head down to him as he tilted the dark-haired boy’s flushed face up to his… he pressed their lips together.

First gently.

-As Jimmy blinked back his tears… and Richard kissed and licked away the few salty-sweet runaways before they could escape him-

But, then, as their appetite for each other rapidly flared as it seemed bound to do, their tongues were battling for dominance and they were hungrily nipping, as always nipping, at each other’s lips, and even jaws and chins…

 

Caught up.

So quickly caught up in one another’s truly tantalizing energy.

Matched so perfectly that they were low-key linking and sharing without even realizing or thinking about it.

As they’d been doing for years.

Their sigs becoming very nearly indistinguishable during such times…

 

It truly seemed inevitable…

The longer they were together, the more they gladly lost themselves to each other.

 

-And, maybe, it was this. This incredible bond that the two he was closest to had always shared that had seeped into Simmons’ subconscious… This unbreakable bond that had torn Richard asunder when he, in that worst of all moments, thought it forever lost to him… Perhaps, seeing, and feeling even second-hand, that extreme of, -what had seemed to be-, a rendering of two broken souls that had only been made whole through their linking… Maybe, this was the reason that Simmons saw connecting so deeply to someone else as dangerous. And, perhaps, this was why he was afraid… Afraid to lose himself to someone else… To Grif…-

 

But, what did Richard or Jimmy know of any of that in such a moment? Of future traumas and sorrows… Of what their family would eventually become, and who all would be a part of it by the time they were all together again....

Remember, remember, for fuck’s sake, please always remember (And, have a little mercy and forgiveness for their fuck-ups if you can.) that they had no clue.

Especially, when they were so enthusiastically wrapped up in a world that contained only them three, and only them two, within moments like these… So devoted to the beloved secret family they’d made, and that they treasured above all else…

 

But, right then, it was one of those moments of only them two.

 

And, they were hurriedly, and almost sloppily, pulling and wrenching the V-neck sweaters with the school’s logo that they both wore up and other each other’s heads.

Thoughtlessly draping them over the handicap bar-

 

Richard guessed the two of them… they would probably be considered such naughty, naughty boys, huh?

Cause that so wasn’t what that bar was _for_ , after all.

But, of course, it wasn’t really for propping your shorter boyfriend up on so you could have better leverage while you, once again, slid your clothed cock up against his, either, now was it?

Hmm… well, as his beloved little nerds would generally say (About much more innocent shit, though.), it was _always good to multi-purpose_ , right?

 

Gotta admit that Richard didn’t really give a fuck about that right then, though.

 

He was too busy pulling the raven-haired boy’s hair tie out. Unobtrusively slipping it down into his own pants pocket-

And, roughly yanking Jimmy’s shirt from his slacks before reaching his hand back up in-between the small space he’d allowed between them to thumb those polished buttons out of their prim and proper place on his pretty boy’s oxford shirt…

Running his fingers up smooth, pale skin as it was revealed.

And, circling and tweaking those so favored pretty, pink nipples as Jimmy craned his neck up to capture his lips, again… Only to, then, pant impatiently even while whimpering eagerly into Richard’s mouth…

 

His sweet baby…

Always so enthusiastically willing. Teetering toward petulant if he didn’t get what he desired quickly enough.

He fit Richard so perfectly... you’d almost think… almost think they’d been made for each other…

 

It wasn’t until Richard had slipped nimble fingers down to unbuckle his Raven’s fancy, woven belt, and unbutton that shiny, polished brass button so he could unzip the smaller boy’s slacks-

“Mmm…” Before Richard’s hand had even reached in to grasp ahold of him, his Jimmy boy had started to preemptively _whine_.

Whimpering, _plaintively_ now, into Richard’s mouth when he finally slipped his fingers in to **really** touch him for the first time that day, and…

 

Oooh, yes… So silky… So fuckin’ silk-…

Silky?

 

Richard pulled back despite Jimmy wrapping his arms tighter around his neck, even as he unconsciously squeezed Richard’s hips between his thighs, and tried to pull him back to kiss him, again.

Obviously, trying to distract him so he wouldn’t say any-

 

But, Richard wasn’t one to naturally censor himself, and he did love his teasing. So, of course, he grinned down at the top of the smaller boy’s head as Jimmy, who was now blushing to the tips of his ears, looked down in-between them at his-

 

“At _school_ , Raven? Oh, my sweet baby… Gotta be more careful, sweetheart… What if there’d been a fire or you got in an accident n’ they had ta’ like cut your clothes off or somethin’…” Richard murmured softly, his tone too gentle and low to truly upset the still so sensitive boy as he ran two slender fingers feather-light against the black string bikini panties with tiny little red bows at the hips… and against the bulge encased within them, “ _Mmm_ … And, hey, I thought you said you didn’t have any more hidden silky surprises for me?,” he teased, voice turning quietly playful.

And, Richard pressed his lips to his Raven’s slightly trembling ones as he palmed him through those pretty panties. Rubbing and so excruciatingly slowly and gently kneading that hard heat that was hidden beneath the soft, silky fabric…

“B-But, they… They aren’t ‘silk’… exactly… They’re, uh, just like… s-satin…” Jimmy puffed out the words against Richard’s lips as he arched into his hand to get even more contact.

 

And, the taller boy moved a bit back again to look between them at the undergarments- the _unmentionables_ \- in question… causing Jimmy to squirm a little more than he already was under his scrutiny.

Pretty obviously wishing he’d kept his mouth shut, he muttered sheepishly, “Oh… I, um… forgot I told you about… the whole silk n’ satin thing, didn’t I?”

 

“Hmm…” Richard hummed softly before in one swift movement, he pulled the other boy up off the bar and off himself enough so he could shove his slacks down to pool around his ankles…

Then, sitting his little satiny silk covered ass back down on that so handy bar-

Richard leaned over him to nose the collar of Jimmy’s unbuttoned shirt aside…

 

So he could, again, _bite_ his naughty boy.

-His collarbone this time in punishment for his tricky word games-

Before laving the sting away so very lovingly with his flat of his tongue.

Long, thorough licks.

 

The smaller boy gasped happily at this form of animalistic chastisement as much as at the soothing forgiveness that followed it.

And, this was, honestly, only what would be expected from this boy. The one and only one that would ever fit Richard like a glove.

 

But, _of course_ , Richard just had to open his damn mouth. It was his curse. He never knew when the right time was to shut the fuck up.

“So they’re woven satin, but made outta silk, hm?,” he muttered, smiling against nearly equally silky skin, “Of course, they are. Why’re you bein’ so damn shy n’ tryin’ to be all fuckin’ tricky, anyway? I ordered these for you, didn’t I?... An’ now I can’t decide which I like better… the ‘soccer socks’ or these… An’, ya know, I _might_ need ta’ take a lil’ detour on the way home… might just have another lil’ surprise for you I need ta’ pick up from the box…”

 

The dark-haired boy was the one who pulled back this time.

Blinking slowly as if awakening from a dream… long black lashes fluttering sweetly as a butterfly’s wings…

He smiled distantly… absently raising and rubbing a silk stocking covered knee up Richard’s leg… Up onto his already hard-

 

But, then, he blinked again. Shaking his head slightly as he just lowly _groaned_ in unison with Richard who was leaning into that delicious rub… “R-Richard, what about-… L-Look, you know I-I love everything you-you… ya know… do for me… but you… you shouldn’t spend your guys’ credits on- on me when we’re supposed to be saving up for when we can… can leave-”

And just that quickly, Richard was frowning slightly, catching and clasping Jimmy’s knee in his hands, “Hey! It’s-It’s not even that much comparatively. I… I budget shit! And, if the Kid can dip in ta’ the stash for nerd crap for your guys’ n’ his own personal science projects or whatever, then-then, I can dip in for what I want, too!” He began to speak more quickly as he started to get more passionate about the topic than about screwing around, “And, I want my sweet baby ta’ be happy, alright! An’ I wanna spoil the Kid whenever I can get away with it! I wanna take care of you two in any fuckin’ little ways I can think of until I can get you both outta here. _That’s what makes ME happy!_ Is that so much ta’ ask? Huh?”

Before the other boy could answer, Richard was pulling his ol’ mood switcheroo, and he was releasing that stocking-covered knee so Jimmy could instantly go back to rubbing it up against his still hard, though unfortunately also still covered flesh again, and Richard could go back to kissing up his boy’s pale throat as he insisted with more hunger than heat… Or, a different kind of heat… “Anyway, don’t you start gettin’ worked up about that stuff, now... I shouldn’t a’ reminded you… “ Nipping at the smaller boy’s jaw, he ordered, “Told you not to worry about credits n’ crap, didn’t I? I still got my ways n' some a’ my old connections like I always have. An’ anyway, _you know who_ can hack like a mother fucker. He finished transferring n’ ghostin’ all my old funds frickin’ years ago-”

Richard was so busy trying to reassure the other boy that he once again thoughtlessly referred to himself as his _true_ self, and the Kid as the fully separate individual he really was. He went through sporadic bouts of doing this… over and over again…

“So we can afford ta’ spoil ourselves a little bit, okay?”

When Jimmy still seemed unsure, Richard went for the gold. For what he _knew_ would get his baby ta’ see things his way… And, he was cupping him through silk again even whist nibbling at his neck. Ah… right under his pretty pixie’s chin… a bit above his adam’s apple… his baby’s weak spot… Well, one of them… A surefire way to get his boy to both harden and melt simultaneously, as he mumbled, “An’ I mean, hell, let’s be real here. You _need_ your own stuff ta’ wear, sweetheart. It’s **important** for you, Raven…”

 

_Annnd_ , that’s when Richard, with his periodic lack of filter disease, and just overall lack of knowing when to stop while he was ahead… just fucked up. He just fucked the fuck up. (And, he was doing so goddamn well, too!), “An’ ya know I don’t really want you wearin’ any a’ your _sister’s_ old crap- even if it’s just the skirts n’ stockings n’ shit- when I fuck you, anyway-”

 

Holy hell. He was such a jackass. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how, -especially at this point when this part of their relationship was still quite new-, his boy passionately **hated** when he said it like that… But, apparently, Richard just HAD to periodically fuck shit up.

 

And, so Jimmy fucked up, in turn.

 

“IDIOT!,” the dark-haired teen instantly growled beyond furiously as he shoved _much_ too aggressively at the immovable, stronger other boy, and slapped stingingly hard at his chest.

 

And, the whole mood between them changed in an instant.

 

Richard wasn’t aware of how quickly it happened. Or, really even that he’d allowed it to happen at all. But, before the smaller boy could slap at him again… before another word could even be uttered… Jimmy’s wrist was suddenly caught in a viciously inescapable grip. And, Richard’s bright eyes just that quickly were flashing dangerously as they turned stormy.

 

An’, dammit, he didn’t MEAN to get like that! There was no thought involved. Sometimes, a very territorial, aggressive, truly almost animalistic side came out of Richard (And-And… Jimmy, and… and the Kid, too…… only on such a lesser scale in comparison…), and _it_ was…

A dangerous thing-

…

 

Goddammit!

Fuck! Fuck! Sometimes, Richard wanted to see his damn mother again just so he could smack the hell outta her!

_(Oh, he NEVER **really** would. Not her… He missed her. He missed her.)_

What?! Had she sprinkled some trace amounts of mother fuckin’ _animal_ DNA in the pot while she’d been at it or what?

Hmph…

How startled she’d been when he’d straight-out asked her that one day…

Only to then _laugh_ that high-pitched, kooky laugh of hers. Insisting that they certainly weren’t actual _creatures of the night_ , or some such silly-

But, she’d gotten quite upset at what he’d then accused her of next, and she’d SWORN that she’d never created any “monsters”!, “I was much too careful with the replications-the fusion process-the integration, and-!... Richard?! StopBeingSadHoney!!! It-It makes me feel very-I KNOW! Let’s go get the boys, and get ice cream, yes?! Yes, of course! Ice cream! I read that young people do like their frozen dairy products, and- and then, then we can forget all about this silliness!-… Sweetie, I don’t want you thinking- you and the boys AREN’T _monsters!_ ”

She’d been so vehement. Damn serious for her.

But…

Richard hadn’t and still didn’t quite believe her. After all, what the fuck would you call _him_ , at the very least-

If not a fucking monster…

 

But… in this moment, Jimmy simply gazed up at him, and, though his breathing was strained (Still due to arousal more than anything else.), he stubbornly stated, “You **know** I don’t like when you… I don’t like when you say it like that, Richard! I’m-I’m not-not one of your _sluts_ \- one of your throw-away wh-whores from before!”

 

No fear.

Although, Richard truly had him so harshly pinned against the wall. With that strength, -that he normally kept hidden-, still so capable of instantly snapping his boy’s thin wrist… His other hand so suddenly pressed and curled too forcefully, too _possessively_ around the other boy’s rigid length…

 

And, had he (Or, **it** or they or _whatever!_ ) started fucking _growling_ threateningly at the smaller boy, too?

 

Whether he was or not (Yeah, he frickin’ totally was… For fuck’s sake… Shit’s _embarrassing!_ ), all at once, Jimmy’s eyes were becoming unfocused… his expression going soft as he was more swaying than moving forward.

 

And, Richard was allowing it.

Though he watched him through half-lidded, predatory eyes…

 

The smaller of them leaned up, although it had to have been uncomfortable on his manacled wrist.

Not to mention his dick-

 

And, he instinctively licked across Richard’s lips, the tip of his nose…

All at once, _whining_ continuously and at such an incredibly soft yet strangely high pitch that, looking back, Richard could **swear** that neither of them caught on to it in that moment.

 

No. Not until much, much later-

When they had a better understanding of their… situations… Both individually… and together. Between them three (Richard & Simmons & Jimmy), and them two (Richard & Jimmy), and the other them two (Richard & Simmons), the _other_ them two (Simmons  & Jimmy).

 

-Geez. Fuckin’ exhausting. It was a lot of relationships to keep up with (And, keep in line.) between what was now only two physical entities-

 

The strangest thing in that moment, though… it wasn’t just the docile whining and submissive licking that neither of them caught on to right then, but the whole… moment… the… feral-ness of it all…

It went from Jimmy hastily turning hostile (Like a snappy little puppy.), to Richard asserting some kind of instant dominance, to Jimmy not showing any real fear, but still pretty promptly submitting…

Luckily, it was all quite mild, overall. Like the dynamic you’d expect to see in an established family pac-

 

And, just that quickly, the moment was past. And, whatever fuckery that lived within their DNA that periodically took hold was once again asleep. Dormant.

 

Until next time.

 

“Ah, shit! Sorry, Raven,” Richard exclaimed sincerely. His grip on the smaller boy loosening.

But, he wasn’t apologizing about what you’d think he would be. Not right then. That all was still a bit fuzzy.

“I forgot, okay?,” Richard continued speaking gently.

And, in no time flat he was releasing him… Only to, then, press and rub the heel of his hand purposefully against Jimmy’s “satin” covered length as he whispered and clarified, “I forgot… You don’t ‘fuck’ lil’ pixie princesses, right? You gotta ‘make sweet, sweet love’ to one a those so precious little spoiled -”

“Oh, sh-shut up,” Jimmy breathed out. Rolling his eyes even as he rolled his hips into Richard’s hand.

 

But, he was smiling, now.

  
And, really… that was the crux of it. One of the many things that drew Richard to him, again and again.

Because even if Richard (And, Jimmy.) were still a little lost as to what exactly… happened between them sometimes… in moments like the one that had just passed…

One thing was always clear to Richard.

Jimmy knew him. Knew what he was truly capable of…

 

Even if he didn’t, currently, understand everything as well he would eventually come to.

 

Nevertheless… regardless of when he knew what… he’d always known that Richard could be “dangerous”.

“Unpredictable”.

“Volatile, impulsive and fickle!”

 

All of the unfortunately true things Richard had been hearing about himself from **them** since he was a child.

 

Yes, Jimmy had always, always known him and yet… he wasn’t afraid of him. He might get startled or even slightly alarmed.

But, he’d never shown any true fear.

Which considering that frighteningly feral side of Richard that was only further triggered by signs of weakness and panic, that was probably a damn good thing.

 

The only others who had ever accepted him so completely were Simmons, and his own mother. But, even with them… there were always things that he’d had to hide.

To protect them more often than not, but…

The only one he could, -when he actually allowed himself to-, truly be himself with…

Was this lovely, fragile boy that didn’t fear him.

 

It only made Richard want him more. Made him more possessive. More… _intense_ with the slender boy that he couldn’t get enough of.

He had never been like that before… not with anyone else. At least, not in the WAY he was with his Jimmy.

Sure. Maybe, some of the chicks from back in the day, -eyes gleaming and smirking in self-satisfaction-, would’ve called him “intense”. Seeming to think that they’d ensnared him, somehow. Had awakened something hungry and wild in him.

 

But, it was completely different back then.

 

He’d call it more… abrupt. He’d wanted to get them off, get off himself, and get it over with. There was no… emotion involved in any of it.

From the vague memories he had when he wasn’t forcing himself to not “accept the reality of your situation and who you really are, _Richard!_ ” (His sweet baby… really **such** a freakin’ nag.), he knew that, -though, he’d always been the type to be faithful during his ludicrously short “relationships”-, no one had previously ever made him actually care enough to _want_ to be with them in particular …

There’d been no _link_ like the one he shared with his boy. No connection. No **_spark_**.

No. Not until Jimmy… From that very first night when his Raven had so shyly pressed his lips to his…

It was like… they say that the Asshole’s small heart grew three sizes that day!

  
*Snort*

  
But, seriously… Richard had never thought he’d be capable of truly loving anyone outside the Kid and… and his own mother., and, yes, even who he’d secretly still thought of as “Triple J” back in the day. But, that was all family sorta love. They’d all been together, -rather the boys remembered it or not-, since… always. At least, since either boy had been added to their whole.

  
So, he had never really even _known_ what it was to actually want anyone in the way he wanted his Jimmy.

His boy…

Who made him FEEL.

In ways he never had before.

Who did make him possessive and hungry- No, _starving_. He could never, never get enough. Even if it was just taking him to the ground, and kissing his pretty lips, licking into his mouth, and tasting his whimpers on his…

  
He, honestly, couldn’t take anymore playing around. He needed- He needed to _taste_ him. To feel him on his tongue, and at the back of his throat…

He had to bend over to pull off Jimmy’s shoes, and toss them aside where they _thudded_ against the wall.

And, he was straightening up to lift his boy’s slender legs, one at a time, up and the rest of the way out of his pants legs. Yanking those navy blue school uniform pants off his boy that was still perched on that handicap bar… running a hand up his calf, the back of his thigh, up under silky satin to caress and squeeze that sweet, round little bottom- that the taller boy was having a _hell_ of a time not just-

  
_Fuck_.

  
No, seriously, he was like counting down the years, the months, the weeks, the DAYS until he could let them take another little step forward and another and then finally…

Sure, maybe when he was “being honest with himself, and his situation, and who he was”, blah, blah, blah… he could admit that he’d been straight-out _fucking_ bitches at this age (And, younger.) back in the day… whatever… (Not that that was _normal_ in their community… well… only for a very select chosen few.), but this was goddamn different.

In SO many ways, and-and…

Ah, fuck, who knows.

This was Jimmy. His Raven. His sweet baby. And, even if his own physical situation wasn’t so off the mother fuckin’ wall, now… he still would’ve had to take things slow because-

Because the dude _mattered_ , ya know?

It was just different.

But, that didn’t mean it was _easy_. Hell, no. Just the opposite actually. It was always so damn difficult to maintain some semblance of innocence for his boy until he was old enough...

  
And, when would Richard actually think or feel he WAS old enough? That’s what drove _Jimmy_ up the wall.

  
With how much Richard cherished him, and what remained of his innocence… he didn’t have a frickin’ clue.

  
But, at the moment, he couldn’t get hung up on such things.

He was too busy givin’ Jimmy’s lil’ ass a lil’ pat before pulling his hand out of the back of the panties, and straightening up in order to quickly shove their sweaters aside and down the bar-

So, he could, then, so carefully and neatly hang Jimmy’s slacks beside them.

  
It wouldn’t do to have nerd shit tumbling outta his pixie’s pants pockets and rolling across the bathroom floor, now would it?

Fuuuck, he’d already learned THAT the hard way with Simmons.

It was a hell of a thing to wake up with all this weird shit, -little scraps of paper (Meant to be transcribed later in a more concise manner… But, the Kid usually forgot.), with notations on physics or mathematical equations, paper clips, partially stripped wires, connectors, and the odd stick of forbidden gum to name a few-, jammed into your pockets cause as the Kid said, “I-I was _working_ on something!”

Oh! And, speaking of forgetting shit, he figured he’d better say something now before they… got wrapped up with other things-

 

“Jimmy-” Richard started to say as he smoothed out the slacks on the bar and the smaller boy shifted uncomfortably and yanked impatiently at his arm.

Looking absurdly adorable as far as Richard was concerned.

His soft raven hair loose around his shoulders, but tucked behind his ears.

(Shit, Richard couldn’t wait til’ they could get his boy’s ears pierced- Maybe, him n’ the Kid would do it, too, if Simmons wanted to…)

Wearin’ nothing but that crisp, unbuttoned goody-goody oxford that so contrasted, -in the best of fuckin’ ways-, with those silky black thigh-high stockings that, -hell yes!-, had red satin bows placed right atop their lacy tops. Bows that perfectly matched the tiny miniaturized ones on those silky black panties.

The black and the red also contrasting so beautifully against his Raven’s flawlessly smooth alabaster skin. Against his flat belly an’ lean thighs…

 

Fuck. He was really still too much of a brat to be capable of being this striking attractive.

 

And, he didn’t even have to wear pretty satin panties, lacy camisoles, and silky thigh-high stockings to achieve this effortlessly sensual…. Freaking _aura_ , of sorts.

Or make-up his lovely, so feminine features.

Sure it always all looked beyond amazing on him, but it was _him_ himself that made it work.

And, it wasn’t that deal where people say that it’s the “confidence” that makes it work. No. Not necessarily. Not in this case. It took years of shyness and an endearing almost demureness until Jimmy could work up even the tiniest bit of “a strut.”

So it wasn’t that. What it WAS, was more of… something ingrained. Something natural. Like, after the initial wariness, his body relaxed into the female trappings as if it recognized them as being as equally normal (Yet, so much more “fun, and colorful, and pretty!”) for him as any “boy” clothes could ever be.

 

Even when his mind, and their upbringing fought against such notions…

 

“Jimmy, Simmons said earlier-” Richard forced himself to continue before he just ate his sexy lil’ pixie princess all up (It was _more_ than rare for Richard to bring Simmons up at such a time, but he didn’t wanna get caught up with his Raven n’ subsequently let his Kid down.), “-he said he wants a movie marathon night. Star Trek or something… Battle… Galaga?”

Jimmy had frozen at the mention of the Kid.

But, now, he snorted, _“Galaga?_ Pretty sure that’s an old arcade game, Richar-”

“And, that meatless veggie lasagna you make, too. How’s ‘bout half veggie, half meat, though?,” That wolfish grin appeared outta nowhere as he squeezed his boy’s thigh. Not quite able to _touch_ touch him, quite yet, when they were still talking about the Kid, “ _I_ need my meat, ya know…”

Jimmy giggled, swiping (Gently, though.), at his side, “You’re so bad!”

“That’s right,” Richard agreed, starting to press back up against him… but, then, he yanked back, again.

 

An’ oh, now, his princess was obviously gettin’ REAL pissed, “Richard, can you _please_ quit screwing around?! And, let’s just… you know!”

“Wait-wait!,” Richard twirled his fingers in the ends of Jimmy’s hair as he stated empathically as if it was outrageously important (And, it really was. It made the Kid happy, didn’t it? So, yeah. Fuckin’ important.), “I almost forgot about the Kid’s frickin’ ice cream sandwiches!-”

“Yes, yes! On chocolate chip peanut butter cookies! You act like I don’t _know_ him or something. He wants Battlestar Galactica, -or _Galaga_ *Snicker*-”

“Oh, _yes_ , baby. _**Lord**_ your superior nerd knowledge over me. You **know** how much that crap turns me on-”

 

Embarrassingly enough? He wasn’t even _entirely_ kidding.

**Anything** with Jimmy turned him on. He could sit his pretty boy on his lap, and have him recite the fuckin’ Periodic Table, an’ in no time flat he’d have his hands locked onto his slender hips, and he’d be rocking up even as he rocked his Raven down against him until they were both creamin’ to the sound of his boy moaning into his shoulder “A-As-Astatine!”

Hopefully, they’d make it farther next time, but… Well, who the fuck ever said homework couldn’t be fun, huh?

 

“Sh-Sh-Shush it!,” Jimmy stammered, looking up at him from under his lashes.

 

And, Richard could **swear** they were remembering the same thing.

So he kissed the tip of his nose, and teased, “Wanna get REAL fuckin’ wild n’ debate the merits of different brands of protractors, or-?”

“Seriously, sh-shut-up…” A sweet little blush graced Jimmy’s cheekbones, before he forced himself to continue, “ _A-Anyway_ , so he wants a B-Battlestar Galactica marathon, meatless, - _maybe_ half meat, if I decide you deserve it-,” his boy rallied enough to tease him back. He was really startin’ to secretly take after Richard these days. The lil’ shit. “If I decide th-that you’ve **earned** it-”

“Oh-hoho!,” Richard chortled.

 

A sharp little yank on silky raven strands. A reminder of things to come…

 

“-l-l-lasanga, and chocolate chip peanut butter cookie ice cream s-sandwiches. I got it. Now, can we DO this, already? Did you forget that we’re in the frickin’ _bathroom_ at SCHOOL!... Or…” He looked up at him suspiciously, “Or, is that just your favorite part about all this, _Richard?_ And, you say I’M kinky?!”

“Raven, don’t you go puttin’ words in my mouth,” Richard mock-scowled, “I **never** called you ‘kinky’…” But, then, he just couldn’t keep a straight face, “…Not out loud, anyway… Well, except that one time…”

“Oh, screw you,” Jimmy stuck his tongue at him, again… but wiggled it playfully this time (Seriously, he was _such_ a fucking brat… And, Richard loved it.) before continuing, “Look who’s talking! You’re the one who thought of doing this **here**. I don’t even know why you can’t just log us out for the day like last time. Then, we could do this at ho- _uhohh_ …”

 

He cut his own self off with a quiet gasp as Richard _sunk_ to his knees right in front of him.

 

\- Richard didn’t really feel like waiting ‘til they got home-

 

And, immediately nudging Jimmy’s thighs further apart so he could settle in-between them-

He was grasping ahold of one of his boy’s slender legs to hitch it up so it could rest atop his shoulder; while very nearly instantaneously pinning his opposite hip to the cool tile when this action almost unseated Jimmy from the bar…

 

Fortunately, Richard’s reflexes where always stunningly quick.

(But… fuck… It had to be mentioned, -though this was a shit time to bring it up-, that Richard’s virtually immediate reactions had, at times, not been very fortunate. But, had only served to make the Kid’s moments of _unfortunate_ nervous clumsiness **more** noticeable and bizarre… God help the fuckhead that called the Kid out on it, though.)

 

But, nevertheless, in this moment it was kinda like Daddy/Daddy time, so to speak (Though, Jimmy’d probably think of it as Daddy/Mommy time, depending on his current state of mind, so whichever.), and now that Richard had his Raven safe n’ secure and right where he wanted him… he could and _did_ start to play up his stocking-covered thigh…

Turning his head to press kisses up the silky fabric, and rasp his tongue against lace. Then, capture and tug sharply at a red bow with his teeth just to hear his sweet baby let out a soft growl that he seemed entirely unaware of… a sound which Richard met with that wolfish grin… chuckling around a mouthful of satiny bow…

 

Jimmy had grabbed ahold of the bar he was seated on at some point, and he was holding onto it so tightly that his knuckles were going white.

Richard almost causing him to topple right off the damn thing must’ve made him remember to be nervous about what they were doing, -and where they were doing it-, again.

His arms were beginning to shake…

 

“ _Relax_ , baby. I got you,” Richard pressed gentle lips up to his belly, “I won’t let you go...”

Richard distracted him by sliding reverent fingers up the slim curve of his hip… up his belly… and around his side to make him arch toward him so he could tickle down, down his back…

And, push the back of those panties down enough to once again reward and tease himself with running his fingers over and squeezing those firm, little cheeks.

Getting a little sidetracked by the act, as well as by the contrast of the warmth from his Raven’s skin on his palm, and the chill from the cool tile on the back of his hand.

 

Finally, -though Jimmy’s breathing had quickened-, the tension in his arms eased, and although he still held onto that bar with one hand, the other reached out to gently touch Richard’s face.

Fingertips slipping between his lips.

“What a good boy…” Richard praised between running his tongue over and nipping at those slender, lovely artist’s fingers, “So proud a’ my sweet baby… Always so damn good-”

“R-Richard, please… I **asked** you to quit-… Will-Will you just quit sc-screwing around?!,” Jimmy half-moaned, half-choked out, “I KNOW how much you g-get off on taking forever and ever teasing n’ get-getting me all worked up until I lose _my freaking mind_ , but- but…”

“Naw-Aw-Aw…” Richard corrected playfully, “What’d I say, huh? No butts. Just dicks for now.”

“Wha-?... What are you-? Oh my-!... Richard! Watch your mouth when we’re at- We’re still at **school**!”

“Not my school, dude,” said with a careless, though affected, shrug.

“You… You’re un-frickin’- _believable_ ,” Jimmy looked like he couldn’t decide between blushing, bitching, or bursting out laughing at Richard’s ridiculousness.

 

But, Richard just smiled up at him. Having leaned closer to him.

And, mouth, suddenly, only mere centimeters from his prize, he snickered and said straight to Jimmy’s panty-covered **dick** (Cause, ya know, Richard’s teasing lived forever, and, also cause he- he could just be nutty like that… Pfft… Nutty…), “Hmph… _Jimmy’s_ pretty goddamn mouthy for how hard you are, huh, pretty boy? Won’t chill the fuck out til’ he gets what he wants-”

  
He probably would’ve said more. It was in Richard’s nature to push certain things to the limit…

But, then, Jimmy just _whined_. His hand cupping Richard’s cheek. Thumb brushing his lips somehow almost pleadingly.

And, Richard totally forgot everything else. Zeroing in on his touch, and… that sound… The pitch, the tone… always so very familiar.

 

_Loved, **loved** when his bitch whined for him-_

 

-Uhhh… Where the fuck had THAT come from?-

 

Fuck it. Richard couldn’t be bothered. Because that sound coming from the one that was only his, and made for only him… It sent pulses straight through his bloodstream.

And, the need to claim him, brand him, KEEP him, love him in any way possible was over-fucking-whelming.

 

Richard couldn’t help licking his lips in anticipation before moving in to nuzzle at that silky covered goodness that the bikini panties where having a hell of an impossible time concealing in Jimmy’s currently aroused state-

“So pretty, baby,” he purred. Pressing worshipful kisses onto satin. Kisses that turned into rough mouthing and licking.

Sucking him right through those panties…

Gettin’ them all wet.

 

And, looking up at him from under his lashes the whole while.

 

Holy shit. This pretty little son of a bitch drove him wild. Just seeing the flush on not just his cheeks, but his whole face, and down his slender neck as their eyes met…

And, hearing him lose all self-restraint as his mouth opened without him even being aware of it, and-

 

“Oh my fucking God,” Jimmy whispered as he looked down at Richard on his knees before him.

Finally, focusing fully on, and pulling the black panties down just enough to pull him out…Licking and lapping at his tip before-

Taking him into his mouth.

Yes.

At _school_.

And, a school like this one… full of **them** …

With the large double doors that led to the sanctuary literally down a very short corridor, around the corner, and then only a handful of yards outside the boy’s bathroom. (It was a fuckin’ weird set-up.)

 

Bright eyes flashed back up to meet so very dark ones-

Before drifting shut.

Getting lost… lost in the feeling of how Jimmy’s leg, -that he held against him, and up on his shoulder-, trembled and shook in his hand as his lips sealed around him to so leisurely suck him in all the way down, down to his base… All hot, tight suction… Only to slowly pull off from taking him in… Laving at the sensitive underside…

 

(Maybe Richard _was_ a bit of a show-off- So fuckin’ sue him! He’d really been workin’ at getting this _just_ right for his boy.)

 

-Pulling back up off him just enough so he could zero in, all talented tongue, sucking kisses, and so, so gentle teeth, onto that one quick to turn hyper-sensitive spot that he’d previously found on his gorgeous Raven (An’ if you haven’t found this special spot on your partner? Look fuckin’ _harder_. Of course, they have to be the type of partner that can handle quick, intense, and over-stimulation, though…)- that insanely over-sensitive spot on his boy that was right under the head and just ever so slightly to the right-

“UhOhGodOhGodOhGo- _D-Don’tStopDon’tStop!_ … Plea-Please-… _R-RightThereRightThere-Th- Fu-Fu-Fuck!-_ ,” Just outside a minute, an’ he already had his sweet baby pleading mindlessly and gasping as quietly as he could (Thank fuck the majority of the corridors were long, and the doors were thick.).

His dark eyes actually watering from pleasure.

Might be a new record.

An’ hell, he had to admit… though it might make him sound like one devilish son of a bitch… but at times like these… Richard really got off on getting Jimmy to completely senselessly start saying words, -like he didn’t have a _clue_ when he started losin’ it, and started swearin’ his pretty lil’ head off-, that he had been so ruthlessly trained to never let pass his lips..

 

_Only_ when they were like this, though. He also kinda really loved his Raven’s goody-goody side, too, after all.

And, he certainly didn’t want him to start swearing enough that it became commonplace, and he let something slip, and got busted.

 

It was a delicate balance.

 

But, for now, he grinned slightly around the other boy’s length… Well, he started to. Until, Jimmy bit his lip, and clearly out of breath, and not aware of _exactly_ what had been coming outta his mouth, -but still flushing in embarrassment now-, he tried to look away as he began to squirm in discomfort at his so apparent lack of self-control.

But, ohhh no. Richard wasn’t gonna put up with that shit, right now. His Raven could be such a silly little son of a bitch.

It was just fucking comical. Goddamn _laughable._

Surely Jimmy knew by now. Knew that he’d always push him. Always push him past any point of composure.

Just as Richard knew he wanted him to.

To think he could ever win-

Or ever escape…

 

Richard released his boy’s always so ready dick with a last hard suck for good measure that made Jimmy softly growl. And, though it was close to inaudible, he was evidently more cognizant of the sound coming from his throat, as he glared down at Richard and tried to thrust right back into his mouth.

“Nu-uh. Bad boy, Jimmy. You. Behave,” Richard warned softly. And, moving to hold him more firmly against that cold tile and against himself, he further qualified the order with, “In the way _I_ want you to.”

“So-So, in… in other words, _don’t_ behave,” Jimmy was breathing hard, again, but still he managed to sound snarky. To always push those limits.

Hmm… He actually was such a _good_ boy, wasn’t he? He knew just how much Richard loved when they played these little games together…

 

But-

But, then, Richard saw the dark-haired boy grow momentarily distracted. His dark eyes drifting to the **toilet** , that though not that close to them in the quite roomy handicap stall, and immaculately clean and literally rarely if ever used, was still a TOILET, and his little nose wrinkled, once more.

And, Richard narrowed bright eyes up at him, “What? Is my Raven too fuckin’ fancy ta’ screw in here? You wanna get dressed, zip the fuck up, and go back ta’ class? Finish this up later?”

Perhaps, Richard was being a dick (What else was new?), but he did love to push his boy.

 

And, he started to shift, as if about to get up.

 

But, now, it was Jimmy pushing him. Back onto his knees, as he pressed his palm down onto his shoulder, then, curled his hand around the back of his neck.

“No,” he murmured.

“Tell me, then,” Richard demanded as he leaned forward to lick up the underside of his boy’s still so hard length. So softly scraping his teeth against that vein that ran up the underside of his boy’s shaft- that actually twitched in excitement from the attention as though it had a mind of its own, and wanted to communicate its own personal desires.

The smaller boy shuddered, and dug his heel into Richard’s back. And, trying to urge him on while complying with his wishes, he entreated, “Mmm… plea- _Ah!_ please… p-please don’t-don’t make me wait. I want- want you, n-now.”

 

And, Richard didn’t make him go any further. Though, sometimes, by this point, he liked to coax him into telling him _exactly_ what he wanted him to do to him…

But, for now, he simply acquiesced. Giving his boy’s weeping tip a nice, thorough clean-up lick as reward for his obedience.

Backing up a bit just to feel the slight tug n’ burn when his Raven’s hand fisted into his hair to keep him close.

 

And, nuzzling and nipping into his inner thigh as he snapped those panty strings… he pushed back the unbuttoned sides of Jimmy’s shirt… tucking the tails back up behind his back-

So he could move up and give him another nice _bite_ (He was feeling _super_ extra bitey today. Just needed to mark his boy as his after that crap with sporto, he guessed…) to the top arch of that little v that led down to his boy’s pretty cock.

Jimmy moaned _loudly_. Very evidently completely forgetting where they were.

 

( ** _Fuck_**. So hot… but… if someone heard… No, they were still cool. No one else was around.)

 

So Richard couldn’t help but to mark his boy, again. More suction than teeth this time, it would surely leave a hell of a hickey on his hip.

 

An’ _now_ , Jimmy was moaning in as much arousal as if Richard had sucked him right back down his throat-

 

But, it shouldn’t be that surprising considering it wasn’t more than a heartbeat later that Richard _was_ lapping playfully at those tiny red bows n’ licking down creamy skin, to finally take mercy on him an’ take him back into his mouth…

Only to then tease and torment him with periodically focusing on that one particular sweet spot, again…

 

His boy was squirming against his hands, even as he forgot to hold onto the bar at all.

 

And, entirely trusting Richard’s hold on him, he so lovingly cupped and caressed Richard’s cheeks, his jaw. Softly gasping out, “Ah-ohh… _R- Richard_ … L-Love you, love you, Richard…”

Even with how hard his currently neglected dick was… it was… absolutely fucking perfect.

 

But, because life loved to FUCK with them-

 

So, yeah, the dudes came banging into the bathroom (Not the _stall_ , of course, but the bathroom itself.) right as Jimmy was shaking.

Trembling on the very brink as he moved his hands up Richard’s face to thread slender fingers into silky, red strands of hair that he’d pulled loose from its tie…

 

That non-descript little hair tie that he’d automatically slipped onto his own wrist for the time being.

 

He was so close. So close… Richard could feel it in every line of that lithe body he truly so cherished…

 

And, all at once, with no prior warning, the door to the boy’s bathrooms was slamming open.

 

-And, okay, _maybe_ Richard had forgotten, had neglected to continue with periodically checking the grid…

But, shit, man! He’d been **busy** an’ distracted as all hell!-

 

Fuck.

 

Luckily, though, the noise from the- it was… yes…- three boys covered the soft gasp of alarm that Jimmy uttered before Richard squeezed his thigh and hip soothingly, yet, somehow still possessively.

And, looking up to catch his Raven’s panicky gaze... He pulled slowly off him, -pleased that despite his fear, his sweet baby was still incredibly hard (Though, perhaps, more than a little bit pushed back from the very edge due to the alarming distraction.)-, and he pressed a tender, silent kiss to his tip before giving him a little smirk.

A look that reminded him that no matter what he’d take care of him. He’d keep them safe. Even if he was forced into actually acknowledging his true… whatever his deal was (Fuckin’ _thanks_ mom.)… by having to pull some… _serious_ … “voodoo crap” in order to deal with a coupla’ nosy, sure to be judgy-ass mother fuckers…

 

That dark, hungry, always so _hungry_ side of him was already reawakening due to the proximity of intruders in a place temporarily claimed as their own…

Flickering, and stretching languid as a cat, and yet still lying patiently in wait.

Internally purring in pleasure at the very **idea** of what may be to come...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thanks to [ Yin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin) (And, hon, I haven’t forgotten you! Hopefully, next week things will chill a bit, and I can get back to you like I meant to literally a couple weeks ago! I’m sorry! *Hugs*), and [ FanficNinja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficNinja) (My fellow Churros supporter4life, yo. ;P) for the support on this story! The subject matter isn’t exactly the easiest, and some is quite personal so I doubly appreciate it!
> 
> This song embodies how Richard feels about their situation when everything gets out of control… or when he and the Kid had to be out doing “the hard work”. Currently, the song does fit with how Richard is feeling toward Grif in particular: [ Ruelle - Monsters (Acoustic Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLdrPK0fq3I)
> 
> Beautifully fitting song for this chapter and for all those whose love is not accepted: [ Sinners](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoYDzJFqqqE)
> 
> Also, though they are young, I think it’s important to note the more healthy, natural progression of Richard and Jimmy’s physical relationship before the camp. How things were before others stepped in to “fix” them. (It's heartbreaking how often it’s the “fixing” that's actually what causes the breaking, the endless trauma, and the sexual hang-ups.) Remember that Simmons was at the camp, too. Even if those memories are currently locked away, seeing how all this effected Richard and Jimmy is very telling in regards to the future of Grimmons. I love Richard/Jimmy, too, but even those that prefer Grimmons all day everyday are getting A LOT of insight into Simmons’ true past, his mindset, and things that wouldn’t be known or understood if we weren’t seeing it from another unrepressed, unblocked angle.
> 
> Silk vs. satin: This is just something that many with a serious obsession with “pretty panties” learns that those around them don’t always know. Silk is a type of material, while satin isn’t a material at all but a _“type of weaving pattern that gives the front of the resulting item a shiny finish, and a non-shiny back”_. Simply put, something can be both satin and silk. [ XDRESS - Silk vs. Satin: What's The Difference?](https://xdress.com/blogs/news/silk-vs-satin-whats-the-difference)
> 
> WARNING: The link to the site I quoted above does have “women’s” panties, etc. that are more fashioned to fit a biological man -i.e. more roomy in the front. Not at all explicit, but if you take issue with crossdressing or gender expression being more fluid, you should steer clear. Though, if you really do take issue with these topics, in general, this story might not be the best fit for you, tbh. ;P
> 
> [ Btw, Jimmy’s Stockings- Oh, I’m sorry! The _Soccer_ Socks… ;D](https://guideimg.alibaba.com/images/shop/85/10/29/4/be-wicked-bw556-sheer-lace-top-thigh-highs-with-red-satin-bows_1375974.JPG)
> 
> Regarding Richard having access to funds that Senior doesn’t know about, -and having a place items could be secretly sent-, this is not as outlandish as it may seem. It's often astounding how little parents in some more well-off, cult-like communities actually known about what their kids/teens are up to. I knew multiple people (Myself included.) that had money stashed that their parents knew nothing about. When you’re in a bad situation, you do learn to budget, squirrel money away if possible, etc.
> 
> [ On a lighter note... Loop de loop Song](http://spongebob.wikia.com/wiki/File:Loop_de_Loop_song-1422243267)
> 
> Seriously, apologies that it's taken me so much longer than anticipated to get chapters out. We’ve had some pretty outrageous and upsetting things we’ve had to deal with in the past year in my household, and especially in the past six months (Gotta move outta this messed-up town like a mother fucker.). I’ll go into more detail in a future End Note, but for now I just want to hurry and get this chapter up before I get caught up in another something or another! I sincerely hope everyone reading this is doing well! And, please above all be safe out there, loves!
> 
> Much Love! ♡–MissyAnn❀
> 
> P.S. What was the color of Grif’s aura? That will be in upcoming chapters along w/the conditions of Richard and Jimmy’s Nerd Contract, and the answer as to whether it will ultimately help Grif out in his dire time of need! (Does Jimmy know Richard or what? He KNEW Richard and "his other side" would go supernova if someone got too close to “the Kid”.) Also… what did Richard do to get him and Jimmy out of the predicament they were in? And, how will that action effect the current situation with Grif? And, what would Richard think of all this between Grif and Simmons on his own without “its” reactionary, always bordering on animalistic influence?...


	24. Generational Maladies & Miscalculations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard Has a Moment of Self-Awareness... I Think He Takes It Pretty... Pretty Well?:
> 
>   
> I mean, heaven fuckin’ forbid he exercised a little restraint, and sucked his boy off somewhere fucking _safe_ , right?!
> 
> Whaddya think he was a fuckin’ SAINT?
> 
> OBVIOUSLY NOT!
> 
>    
> FUCKFUCK!
> 
> Son of a BITCH!
> 
>    
> No-No WORDS to encompass the self-LOATHING-
> 
> Cause he was the worst piece of shit in the mother fucking WORLD!
> 
> An arrogant, cocky, thoughtless MONSTER just like Senior- **just** like the old man! Jus’-Jus’ like him!
> 
>    
>  _Stop. Stop._
> 
> It actually whimpered within their head… always on the edge of panic when it was around to witness Richard’s self-destructive rage rear up from the depths… but Richard was too embittered to pay it any heed.
> 
>    
> Because, seriously what had he been thinking?!
> 
> What the actual FUCK had his goddamn _selfish_ pretentious ass been thinking?!
> 
> He was supposed to keep the boys safe- Keep them SAFE! Safe, Safe, Fucking Safe! Above ALL else that fucking superseded everything! He knew- He fucking KNEW that! How could he have-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to very sincerely thank everyone who has left kudos and comments on this story. They really motivated me to continue with the story even after going through another rough patch. Forgive me that it’s taken forever to post, but know that each and every one of you are the reason I was encouraged to post, again, at all. *Hugs*
> 
>   
> Chapter Tags: Mentioned Forced Arranged Heterosexual Marriage between Non-Heterosexual Individuals, Mentioned Discrimination against those with disabilities, Strong Homophobic Language, Gender Fluidity, Generational Damage, Self-hate, Richard Showcasing How “Zo” he **really** is, What (Or who?) is It?, Mental Instability/Dysfunctionality all around, Moments of insensitivity toward mental illness, other sexualities, and genders, How to create a monster, Creating of a mother f’ing monster
> 
> If you recall, I mentioned last chapter how people in these kind of communities grow up shockingly fast… but, the further truth that must be mentioned is that they can simultaneously be strikingly emotionally immature. Due to having grown up so quickly and in such an “irregular” fashion, many of these individuals are not always capable of rational responses when they find themselves in stressful situations. This holds true even when they are not already “dual-sided” in nature, so it is only compounded by duality.
> 
>    
> P.S. Please check the end of End Notes for an excerpt from next chapter! :D

_And, looking up to catch his Raven’s panicky gaze... He pulled slowly off him, -pleased that despite his fear, his sweet baby was still incredibly hard (Though, perhaps, more than a little bit pushed back from the very edge due to the alarming distraction.)-, and he pressed a tender, silent kiss to his tip before giving him a little smirk._

_A look that reminded him that no matter what he’d take care of him. He’d keep them safe. Even if he was forced into actually acknowledging his true… whatever his deal was (Fuckin’ **thanks** mom.)… by having to pull some… **serious** … “voodoo crap” in order to deal with a coupla’ nosy, sure to be judgy-ass mother fuckers…_

 

_That dark, hungry, always so _ **hungry**_ side of him was already reawakening due to the proximity of intruders in a place temporarily claimed as their own…_

_Flickering, and stretching languid as a cat, yet still lying patiently in wait._

_Internally purring in pleasure at the very **idea** of what may be to come..._

 

 

Yes. It was back amongst them.

Silent but ready.

 

Always so ready…

 

Head cocked in rapt interest, even while simultaneously preparing to spring into furious territorial combat with no thought of consequence.

Like an ever so curious canis-

Or, was it felinae? They’d _both_ , -amongst other species-, been housed at the lab, after all, so it could be… hard to pinpoint at times…

 

Was kinda a shock to realize that… that even that seemingly animalistic side of them, -of all three of them-, could appear so dual-sided in nature. Manifested at times as wolf-like while at others as feline, and it-

 

Son of a bitch…

It, uh, it couldn’t be denied… it could be… a lot… to deal with.

Richard really wished it would at least _attempt_ to remain level-headed in times of stress, but-

 

Hmph. As if it was even capable of such a thing…

 

_*Sigh*_

Well, what the fuck ever its deal was… it WAS there alright. And, perhaps… perhaps, it may seem surprising to hear that it had “reawakened” so to speak, when it may have been expected to have been more… _present_ … throughout.

 

Especially, considering the understandable draw of lust and hunger… of the very scent and _taste_ of the one it saw as the “mate”.

 

Weird.

 

But… it, -who Richard was always loathe to permanently consider a _him_ lest ~~he~~ it gain more solid footing through any form of more personalized acknowledgement-, never seemed terribly interested in the actual _physical_ acts of sex itself.

But, more in those defining moments of domination and submission, of peril and peace. Overlying interactions within the “pack” that it saw as signifying harmony or discord within their ranks-

That allowed it to understand where they all stood individually and as a unit.

Such “human” moments always seemed to enthrall and entice it… despite its apparent certainty of the meaninglessness of such things.

 

It had always been that way.

Like a pragmatic fauna forever bent on the survival of its own at all cost… that was continuously distracted by curiously tempting and oh so fascinating people stuffs!

 

With all that taken into account, it’s, uhm, it’s likely pretty damn obvious why Richard, when he allowed himself to truly acknowledge its presence as more than a simple offshoot, a manifestation of his own so mercurial self, always tended to think of it in more animalistic terms, but-…

Maybe, if he had been more honest with himself (And, with the boys.) back then, he would have better recognized that while it _was_ too... animalistic to be completely “level-headed”… it was likewise too calculated to be fully feral.

 

Nevertheless… to be totally frank as fuck?… In spite of all that needed to be explored and understood if there was ever any hope of peace amongst them…

Within that very moment in time?

With the infiltrators raucous laughter bouncing off those so blue bathroom tiles…

 

Richard _seriously_ wasn’t bothering to give any real thought toward its reappearance, let alone the curiosity of its existence.

 

He was too distracted with running soothing hands up over Jimmy’s smooth alabaster skin. With turning his head to press soft kisses into that trembling palm that had moved to now nervously rather than sweetly clasp his cheek.

Attempting to calm his sweet boy when he felt his need to bolt like a cornered fawn that had nowhere to bound off to...

 

But, _also_ , trying to silently remind him to jus’ chill the fuck out for a second- to think _logically-_

 

-Ha! What a switch, right? Recalling a moment in time where between any of their little trio it had been _Richard_ that had attempted to be the more logical rather than reactionary in ANY situation…

That in and of itself should really tell you how much secret influence Simmons had already had over him by that point-

 

Although…

Maybe…

Hmm… Maybe, in this particular case, that wasn’t the whole of it.

No…

 

As had been said before, it seemed that nothing could ever be so simple or innocent in the world they’d grown up in.

 

The truth of it was that… that maybe part of why it had been so much easier for Richard, himself, to think clearly… to not instantly freak n’ lose his shit as he was normally bound to do… _especially_ when **it** decided to put on an freaking appearance… was due to him having had an instant realization upon those jackasses’ entry into the bathrooms-

An immediate awareness of that undeniable fact…

 

_Ah, for fuck’s sake_ …

 

Well… man, to be blunt as all fuck, it wasn’t just ANY stall that he and his boy were sequestered away in, now was it?

 

No… not just any stall…

 

Remember, it was the _handicap stall_.

That stall that was damn near to **always** superstitiously kept closed, and virtually never used.

 

As if the disappointment and disgrace that the Church covertly associated with infirmities of all kinds, -and the “demonic possession” supposedly attached to such “imperfections”-, were somehow deserved disorders that were likely _contagious_ as all fuck.

Shameful contaminations within their gene pools that must be avoided at all cost.

 

Yep. That was really a thing with these assholes. Can you even imagine what it was like to have to be around such freakin’ ridiculous ass fuckheads while being so goddamn painfully _aware_ of their bullshit?

Seriously, there was no way to adequately express the _extent_ of how much **they** , and every dumbass thing they stood for pissed Richard the fuck off.

It was just so goddamn, mother fucking-!

 

_Eugggghhh_.

 

_Anyway_ , due to all… all THAT bullshit… Richard hadn’t been able to help but think (And, to subsequently remind _it_ of the fact.) that though they were kinda stuck there until the dudes fucked off… as long as they were all niiiicccce n’ quiet… there really shouldn’t be an issu-

 

_Boring! Lame! NO FUN! NO FUN! Boo! Booooo!_

 

Jesus!

It could frickin’ still surprise him even after all this time.

Poppin’ off n’ actin’ more like a goddamn bratty _kid_ than a wild thing…

It could be disconcerting as all hell considering-

Well… just considering...

 

But, regardless of how often Richard lived in a firm state of denial about… every damn thing… this wasn’t their first rodeo, as the old saying goes, and so Richard seriously wasn’t too surprised to have felt, and to have _heard_ , its disappointment bleeding (More like hemorrhaging.) through.

Its whiny-ass displeasure at the idea that protective action would likely be unneeded, and could surely be avoided certainly didn’t catch Richard off guard-

 

So, of course, it just HAD to up the ante.

 

Hastening to remind Richard, -as it bumped their forehead and rubbed their cheeks more demonstratively than affectionately up against Jimmy’s side (It **was** capable of more genuine familial warmth within their ~~pack~~ “pack”, but it was busy making a point.)… Like a fucking _cat_ doin’ a little all too obvious scent-marking-, that IT took no issue with defending and protecting their own, -that were certainly precious to IT, anyway-, through any and all means necessary-

“Consequence” and “conscience” be damned-

 

[Even as Richard mentally snarled a warning to _back the fuck up **off** him_ , he was forcing himself to calm in order to set it straight, “It isn’t _protecting_ if no ones in actual danger. How many times have me n’ Jimmy TOLD you that?”]

 

Of course, Jimmy, who was even then tightening slender fingers vice-like around the curve of Richard’s jaw in order to keep him (Or, it.) from rubbing up against him, again (It had very nearly brushed right up onto his ribs, and Jimmy could be ticklish as fuck… Not to mention, -despite its ever so thankfully evident disinterest in such things-, Jimmy’s freaking dick was still out!), he had likely thought he was talking only to Richard regarding all that-

Or… maybe not…

Had always been so _hard_ to know how much his boy actually knew, or had _allowed_ himself to know, at any given time… Well, ya know… before they’d truly synched while linking…

 

[“That’s **attacking** not protecting, okay?,” Richard continued, “I know it fuckin’ sucks, but that’s jus’ the way it is, alright? Okay? Now, fuckin’ chill out n’ behave your damn self. Trust me, if we keep quiet they won’t even kno-”]

 

_And, hiiiide away? Like scaredy little pussy-pussycat-_

 

[“DAMMIT! I hate when you’re like this! You fuckin’ shut UP, and listen to me! I’M the one who keeps us safe, and-”]

 

As Richard scolded ~~him~~ it (Just got harder n’ harder to refer to him as “it” the more it came around. Richard was afraid that before he knew it, he’d accidentally be calling ~~him~~ it by the original fucking name ~~he’d~~ it’d been called before… before!), he was simultaneously listening to the two more _obnoxious_ as all fuck of the trio of other boys loudly pullin’ bullshit over by the handful of lockers that were lined up on the opposite side of that thin blue wall that separated the dudes small changing area from the urinals, sinks, and stalls themselves…

 

An’ on one hand, Richard was gettin’ increasingly riled the fuck up the longer he was forced to listen in onto their unseen fuckery-

While on the other, he couldn’t help but to inquisitively take note of how the more the two boys “roughhoused”-

 

(In a _veeery_ different manner than that which he and his sweet boy so often indulged in.)

 

-the more progressively quiet the third boy became.

Sighing softly but long-sufferingly as the two others simply ramped up their antics.

Seeming more thoughtful than excitable…

 

And, look… even if that _sounds_ a little indicative in hindsight… Right then? Richard didn’t think too deeply into any… specified reasoning behind it.

-It wasn’t like the quiet dude’s sig was peaking in alarm or anything, after all-

An’, it wasn’t like the dude’s differing behavior didn’t make _sense_. Richard sure as hell couldn’t fault the more reserved of the three, -even if he was equally an infiltrator-, his lack of patience and presumably increasing boredom with his crew-

Especially, when he, himself, was similarly goddamn annoyed as _fuuuck_ at the commotion the damn two other dudes were making, so he could kinda relate to Quiet Dude’s reaction if NOT his chill response, and…

 

Honestly, thinking back on it, it was pretty evident that Richard probably should have been focused on being happy as hell that their attention was so diverted rather than letting himself get all wrapped up with bein’ an inquisitive yet overtly irritable fuck ‘bout every lil’ thing.

 

I mean, let’s not forget that he was actually supposed to be focusing on getting and keeping _it_ in a steady state… but, instead, he’d kinda, sorta let himself get so distracted by n’ pissy ‘bout the very situation he was meant to be minimizing, -and potentially defusing-, that he’d forgotten all about all that.

 

GodDAMN, he could be _such_ an unbelievably unstable fucker.

Richard knew he’d be freakin’ more than fortunate if _it_ didn’t decide to take Richard’s own aggravation with the dudes as an indication that he _wanted_ shit to turn deadly n’ nasty.

That was a serious possibility, and Richard **knew** that, but he still wasn’t always capable of keepin’ himself together enough to not risk a-a…  misunderstanding…

 

Luckily, though-

So-so very luckily… this time it only huffed softly, almost _amusedly_ , at Richard’s so changeable moods… reading everything correctly for once n’ already settling down.

Apparently, actually content enough in the knowledge that Richard had everything under control for now-

But, _also_ satisfied with the fact that it had made Richard well aware that _it_ was prepared to actually fuck some shit up, if need be.  
  
Really, that it had his and the pack as a whole’s back forever and alw-

  
And, it was kinda a trip, but even as Richard felt the relief run through him as it finally begin to truly calm, to fall back into line…  


He likewise felt the tension in his Jimmy begin to ease.  
  
Felt his iron grip on him relax as he quietly breathed out the worst of his fear-

 

As if maybe he’d suddenly remembered, as Richard had, about precisely where they were…

-The so maligned _Handicap_ with a capital “H” stall, for fuck’s sake-

And, he’d recognized the unlikelihood that any of the so superstitious **them** would even think to approach such a supposedly tainted place without provoca-

 

Wait. That- That wasn’t right. Richard knew it wasn’t. Even as he’d thought it, he’d dismissed it.

Truthfully, Jimmy had been such a trusting soul, back then. Naive in his innocence.

The handicap or “creepy crip” stall as the kids called it, and the blatant bias toward those _without_ any “deviant imperfections” cursed upon them, be they physical, mental, _or_ sexual, was something the young teen had not yet been ready to puzzle out.

And, honestly, how could he have even thought to piece such vile things into place prior to doubly, no _triply_ joining these aberrant ranks of abnormality?

He would never have wanted to admit to how far **they** had fallen from grace lest there be hope for their redemption.

 

So, Jimmy actually having realized how fucked the people in their community were enough to understand the deal with the stall they were in?

Yeah, that was, uh, real obviously NOT the deal.

Considering Jimmy and the way his mind operated… it was more likely that he just really… really-…

 

And, even as one of the more wild boys clomped around in his cleats n’ the second incessantly snorted out insufferable piggy-sounding laughter… as they two continuously got more offensive and Quiet Dude gradually got _more_ quiet… Cleats n’ Snorty trash talkin’ like a dynamic duo of sailors-

 

Richard momentarily yet completely blanked on their presence.

Because, the realization **_hit_** him so HARD.

And, the comprehension of WHY his sweet Raven was actually calming against him in the midst of such nutball shit taking place on the other side of their little handicap hideaway-

 

It seemed to slap Richard across the face.

 

Because, the truth was that Richard DID know. He knew why… He knew damn well that at the end of the day… when push came to shove… when all the chips were down…

He knew how _much_ this beautiful, beloved boy so lovely in his satin n’ silk… who had _so_ very much to hide, to **fear** … who had always shown so much faith in him even when he didn’t know if he had any faith in himself-

 

_The water?... Like before we went in the water?_

 

He trusted him… He truly and absolutely trusted Richard… to keep them safe… even in such a moment…

 

In-… In such a-… such a moment…

That in a _flash_ of painfully terrible realization, of absolutely **nauseating** self-awareness, Richard truly understood his OWN arrogance and thoughtlessness had brought upon them.

 

It hummed under their breath in silent though passive agreement.

Oblivious as to the agony of endless regret such a reaffirmation caused.

 

And, Richard was burying his face against Jimmy. Into his lean little belly that still quivered with residual nerves.

Hiding away in shame.

Feeling his sweet boy’s velvety smooth, yet somehow still firm as stone, length, -still wet from his mouth an’ lightly weeping due to unspent pleasure-, pressed so tightly between them…

Pressed so very close that the satin n’ silk that adorned his Raven softly brushed against him with every involuntary shiver, and shuddery breath that the smaller boy tried so very hard to control…

 

An’ Richard pressed trembling lips to his sweet Jimmy’s skin.

All arrogance, all cockiness instantly forgotten as he felt the fucking _**weight**_ of his own hubris bearing down on them.

 

And, believe it or not, ignoring _its_ instantly piqued interest and inquisitive preoccupation with such “curious” emotions was more than easy for Richard when he could hardly catch his breath. When he felt like he was at risk of suffocating on his own **_stupidity_** -

 

A low, yet luckily still internal, growl of warning echoed in Richard’s head...

 

Oh, yes. How could he have forgotten? It had learned, had _absorbed_ the distaste for any variant of that word, that “stupid” word, from the Kid…

 

But, fuck it. _Literally_. Richard was suddenly too worked up to give two shits about its ever so _cultivated_ sensitivities.

 

He was too fixated on his own bullshit at the moment, thank you very fucking much!

He just couldn’t-… couldn’t… Son of a BITCH! He just couldn’t believe that he… that he had been… been so horrifyingly **reckless** with someone that meant so much. Real life wasn’t like the books or the movies-

 

_Especially_ not in the world they’d grown up in.

 

Indulging in such blatantly “blasphemous” deeds right in the mouth of the lion’s den… Seducing, and cajoling, and _pushing_ his boy into such a ridiculously risqué act just because he knew he could, and because he was such an arrogant fucking PRICK, and-

And, it didn’t MATTER how low the likelihood of them being caught had seemed! That wasn’t the POINT!

The point was that he’d been unforgivably _**careless**_. As if his sweet boy meant nothing- _nothing_.

Acting as if this had just been another one of their little lust-fueled games that they so loved to play… No different than when they were getting each other off (Attempting to in this case.) on that purple n’ black bean bag, or on Jimmy’s oversized leather desk chair… where they’d leaned so far over its back that the confusing feeling of near weightlessness coupled with the gravity drawing them ever closer had been so damn intoxicating…

Pretending it had been no more chancy than when they couldn’t keep their hands and mouths off each other in Jimmy’s shower even when they were meant to already be sated for the night n’ responsibly and quickly washing away any evidence of the pleasures they’d shared before going to sleep…

Trying to convince himself that it’d been no different than all the times he had hunted his sweet little bird all throughout Jimmy’s so large house, -trying so _hard_ not to be a cheaty fuck n’ borrow from the sound asleep Simmons’ abilities-, only to finally pounce on his squeaky little prey. The smaller boy choking breathlessly on his laughter n’ squeals as Richard had hauled him out from his hidey-hole, and onto the nearest available surface so they could indulge in the oldest form of play-

 

No matter how desperately he desired to assure himself that the difference between such encounters and the one they’d currently been trapped in was minimal… That just wasn’t the case.

Because, the Academy _bathroom_ , handicap stall or no, sure as hell wasn’t the ever safer Jacqette household, now was it?

It wasn’t Jimmy’s house where _so_ many things were left unsaid as long as discretion was **always** strictly followed.

Where they could even indulge themselves poolside in the moonlight or on the springy grass in the enclosed backyard on one of those many, many nights James or Marianne didn’t bother to come back to their own particular house to lay their heads…

 

Nope! Richard hadn’t decided to take them THERE, had he?!

I mean, heaven fuckin’ forbid he exercised a little restraint, and sucked his boy off somewhere fucking _safe_ , right?!

Whaddya think he was a fuckin’ SAINT?

OBVIOUSLY NOT!

 

FUCKFUCK!

Son of a BITCH!

 

No-No WORDS to encompass the self-LOATHING-

 

Cause he was the worst piece of shit in the mother fucking WORLD!

An arrogant, cocky, thoughtless MONSTER just like Senior- **just** like the old man! Jus’-Jus’ like him!

 

_Stop. Stop._

It actually whimpered within their head… always on the edge of panic when it was around to witness Richard’s self-destructive rage rear up from the depths… but Richard was too embittered to pay it any heed.

 

Because, seriously what had he been thinking?!

What the actual FUCK had his goddamn _selfish_ pretentious ass been thinking?!

He was supposed to keep the boys safe- Keep them SAFE! Safe, Safe, Fucking Safe! Above ALL else that fucking superseded everything! He knew- He fucking KNEW that! How could he have been such a mother fu-!

 

That gentle touch.

That he would know anywhere at any time.

Slender artist’s fingers smoothing down his hair in slow, reassuring, -it almost seemed _forgiving_ (Jimmy also knew how his mind operated, after all.)-, strokes as Richard felt unshed tears of regret burning hot in his eyes and at the back of his throat… Jimmy soothing _him_ , successfully and instantly so, in spite of how _deeply_ undeserved such a mercy felt.

 

Because he COULD have simply logged them out. Of course, he could have. Could’ve taken his boy ~~home~~ -…

 

_To the- the facility?... Back to… to mother?_

 

-back to the house. No one would’ve dared to check with or to question either of their families about them being signed out, and…

 

And-And, it wasn’t like anyone would have caught them sneaking back into the compound at such a time a’ day, either. **They** were all so wrapped up in their own lives, their own “sins”…

Nosy old Miss Williams was the only real concern, and it had always been simple enough to skirt her house by passing through a few neighboring yards...

 

So why? 

 

Why _had_ Richard put them in such an unjustifiably perilous position when there’d been no need? Why the fuck had he been such a goddamn chancy jackass, huh? Doing such things in such a place… It’d truly been SO goddamn **risky** a thing.

Not just for the two of them, either, but… but the Kid…

 

_Me! And, me! Me, too!_ , it **whined** like a pup being left out of its brothers play.

 

Fuck. Another momentary shock from the peanut gallery-

 

_Peanut… food? Why… What?... Explain?_

 

Son of a bitch.

 

Its capacity for shifting into this startlingly child-like and oh so unaware persona could still astonish.

One moment an uncivilized creature. Capable of thoughtless malice in the name of protection of the so-called pack.

That goal always paramount… unconcerned with any but their own…

And, the next… So blameless in its innocence. Heedless of the magnitude of all they faced, and of what they were. So truly innocent of nuance, _let alone_ consequence.

 

Later… Richard would wonder if his own “bi-polar” ways were partially to blame. After all, even in that moment he had gone from infuriated to melancholy from one breath to the next…

 

Nonetheless, once again as was typical of Richard, he paid no concerted heed to such things right then. Too caught up in the realization that his boy had been completely right-

 

_“…If you ever get caught- It won’t just be **you** that’s caught you know! What about Richie?!-”_

 

Son of a fucking-… Yeah, maybe, Jimmy’d been talking about Richard and his penchant for “Voodoo Crap”, but- but maybe it applied to this, too.

It really _wasn’t_ only Richard that would be “caught” for anything he did anymore, but ~~Richie~~ Simmons, as well.

Looking back on it all… shit. He almost couldn’t wrap his head around-

 

Dammit... 

 

It was just… when it came to the Kid and Richard… There was really more to it than Richard having learned “to mentally connect with the idea that this was currently his body in moments like these…”

The truth was… bigger than that… Richard just really didn’t… over time he just… whenever him and Jimmy were like that together… he’d started to momentarily forget that he wasn’t entirely only _himself_ anymore.

Wasn’t just Richard sharing a precious stolen moment with his Jimmy, his Raven…

Maybe, it was the only way he could stay semi-sane.

 

But, it was still a dangerous game to play. Allowing himself the comfort of fully sinking into and merging with this flesh until he really and truly couldn’t remember that it wasn’t his original own…

It was a little hard to expla-…

Hmm… well, let’s- let’s just say that if he looked directly into a mirror during such especially… intimate… moments with his Jimmy… he’d flip his shit, and there’d be broken glass all over the fuckin’ place.

 

Fuck sake... One thing that was an undeniable truth? Was that between him n’ the Kid… there’d been a shit-ton of busted up reflective surfaces over the years.

 

Heh. But, what was he talking about? Actually “looking directly in a mirror.” Like at his (The Kid’s.) different yet similarly structured face? At those bright green (Not blue. Not- N-Not blue.) eyes and shiny red (Rather than as raven as his Raven’s own.) hair?

Yeah right. Such things were beyond a rarity… not something one such as Richard could often indulge in.

 

Anyone who has ever looked in a mirror and thought, ‘Who the fuck AM I? What was I _thinking?_ Why the hell did I even DO that?’

 

Well, they… they are actually luckier than they may ever know. People like Richard weren’t even capable of such a thing. He couldn’t meet his own eyes in a reflective surface, and attempt to psychoanalyze himself because… because it was never his own eyes or face he saw.

And, it never had been.

Even before… when he looked-looked into those azure blue eyes… all he saw was _him_.

Was Senior.

 

Sure you can imagine how traumatizing THAT shit could be.

 

But, it was MORE than even that.

It was just so damn _easy_ for it all to fall apart.

Even before-before the… the camp, and all-all that…

 

Cause, you see, Richard truly wasn’t like other people since… since being with the Kid. On top of everything-everything else… he was… dammit… just incapable of… of like, uh… _touch_ touching himself in… this body during…  whatever. Could never get himself off, or even take the edge off while taking care of his boy. Could not even chance to unzip and rearrange and line up with his beloved Raven on his own-

No.

No matter how much time went by… that never changed. It had NEVER changed.

 

Some part of him, even when he was so deeply lost in his sweet boy’s enticing energy that he could not phantom that he was anyone BUT himself or anywhere but within his-HIS own body, refused to allow it.

 

Can you even conceive of such a thing?

To be so shackled even in moments of such complete immersion…

 

Maybe, it was part of why he could be so… ravenous?... in his approach?

-Not to mention bitey, and overpowering, and dominant even while being subjugated-

 

He knew damn well he was lucky as fuck that his sweet baby was so aroused rather than annoyed with his idiosyncrasies.

Particularly, as he couldn’t seem to help himself. He was all too aware of everything that others took for granted that he simply could not indulge in whilst sharing the body of one so goddamn precious to him, and-

And, you better believe his own possessive side got riled up something fuckin’ **fierce** when he was suddenly chained by conscience in the midst of-

 

Ah, fuck…

It was probably hard to understand… Like how was he even _capable_ of being in a relationship like the one he shared with his Jimmy if he was so-so… fucked in the head about… all this shit between him an’ the Kid and this body they had now shared?…

 

Hmm… yeah… it… it really _wasn’t_ the freakin’ easiest of things to explain, but…

 

Look, the best way Richard could think to break it all down, at least _this_ particular part of it, was that Richie, er, _Simmons_ was made so much of **Richard** himself that when Richard came to be a part of him… there were truly times where he could settle within the body.

Accept it as, -partially, at least-, absolutely his own.

Technically, Richie was more a part of him, more _of_ him than any child ever was of their natural born parent.

 

But, therein lied the issue.

 

Because even if Richard could get lost in a moment… The firing of synapses, the internal wiring similar enough to allow him to feel as if it was actually **him** himself… with his darker hair, bright azure eyes, his height, his already broader shoulders, and strong arms… truly HIM that shared these moments with his Raven…

If he, as a blunt example, were to, -even entirely accidently!- ever _personally_ touch that particular part of this body that he and Richie now shared while in an aroused state… that no matter their similarities, that so _clearly_ wasn’t exactly his own (Trust him. Most every dude _knew_ the length, the weight, the FEEL of his own dick against the palm of his hand by the time his balls dropped.)… to be reminded in such an intimate moment that this was NOT truly his body, but, instead, that which had once only been Richie’s… a realization at such a time would drive him fucking _**insane.**_

A dysphoric breakdown at its mother fuckin’ finest. On a scale of which only those that lived with the endless tragedy of not exactly _fitting_ within the physical body they lived in could truly comprehend.

 

But… well… it was more than even fucking THAT.

Not that Richard wanted to think about or remember any MORE of this shit, or any of it at fucking all, but…

Well, if everybody’s havin’ to be all _honest_ n’ shit here… And, apparently, they had to be for there to be any-any chance… any chance for…

 

 

Heh…

Really couldn’t afford to “puss out”. Grif-Grif would-would lose his shit again if he thought there was any holding back n’ therefore “fuckin’ shit up!” Even with the now over seven and a half inches between their heights… he’d get a mother fuckin’ _stool_ to stand on if he had to jus’ so he could attempt to knock some sense into Richard…

 

 

But-But… any-fuckin’-way… The real deal was that… that it wasn’t just that Richard had forgotten their situation n’ the fact that he wasn’t in HIS own original body-

Or, even that he’d simply been being a cocky, possessive, horny fuck… Sure, that all- all played its part… but what actually caused him to get so worked up in the first place… enough to drag Jimmy right outta that classroom… it all went beyond that. Into things that were hard… hard to think about… and that he… he didn’t want to ever be a part of the boys’ world.

 

You see, when Sporto had started hitting on Jimmy… it had fucked with Richard on a deep, deep level. It had triggered so many things…

Had made him subconsciously start to remember, way-way in the back of his head at first, about just how essential it was that they hide their love in order to remain safe. How no matter what… a relationship between two boys (Or, two girls, for that matter.) would simply NEVER be tolerated.

 

The thought that they could never even hold hands… swinging them slightly to and fro as they strolled along in the warm sunlight… simply enjoying each other’s company without fear of censure…

That they could never wrap an affectionate arm around each other-

Or, knock shoulders or hips flirtily as Richard had seen others do at parks or grocery stores or as they walked along the shoreline…

 

-Though, their height difference would _always_ compound THAT particular issue-

 

Regardless… such innocent displays of warmth and fondness would bring about such wrath if they were to ever _dare_ to attempt them out in the open within the community they were so trapped in.

 

And, such realizations had made Richard feel physically ill. His blood had boiled to think of it. He’d gone from low-key upset to high-key _wanna fuck shit up_.

A burning fire of fury seeming to rage throughout his very bones…

 

An’, then, just to make everything worse, Richard had realized how _sneaky_ Sporto was being…

You see, it wasn’t just that the dude had dared to hit on Jimmy. Richard wasn’t that damn insecure, for fuckity fuck sake!

And, deep down he absolutely **did** trust his Raven to be loyal to their young but committed relationship. He _knew_ Jimmy would better trust him, as well, when he wasn’t so damn insecure about the whole gender… fluid… thing.

 

So, yeah. It wasn’t simply that jockstrap had had the balls to be interested in _Richard’s boyfriend_ … or even solely that Richard didn’t trust the sly dog’s motives (Though, even if his beloved Raven had still been “Triple J”, Richard would have never allowed Sporto within six inches of him. Six inch rule upheld to the mother fuckin’ _max_.)…

What had really pushed Richard over the frickin’ edge was actually the reminder… the reminder of how unacceptable, and how **hidden** his and Jimmy’s relationship really was. The subterfuge involved when Sporto had been trying to get Jimmy alone so he could start his own secret, salacious scandal of an affair… And, the fact that even if Jimmy hadn’t been so goddamn naïve… he _still couldn’t_ even have been like, “Oh! Thanks, but I’m with someone. We’ve been together for a few years…”

 

It had caused Richard to be hit with it all over, again. As he sometimes was.

Blindsided with this undesired acknowledgement that neither Jimmy nor Richard could say a damn thing about their relationship.

EVER.

Not even if Richard had been in his own body.

Cause his was still a dude’s body with a dude’s dick n’ irregardless of Jimmy’s fluidity, as far as **they** were concerned, so was Jimmy’s.

 

And, such an “abomination of sin” would never be allowed out in the open.

Not as long as they were amongst **them**.

 

The realization had made flashes of rage and even- (Hated to admit this shit, but… well, fuck. Gotta be all in and not “puss out” as Grif called it. Couldn’t be any holdin’ back n’ “fuckin’ shit up”… no matter how much it sucked to have ta’ remember, let alone recount, some a’ this… all this.) even lust flicker through him. Had made some… pretty wild scenarios start to spark within his mind.

 

He hadn’t even been fully aware of his recalcitrant thoughts until he had begun pulling Jimmy outta the room, and down those long corridors, but-… but all at once-

 

All at once, he was vividly imagining taking his gorgeous boy right out into the sanctuary, right in front of the pulpit in the middle of a service… maybe that annoying Morning Worship where they had to stand so close, yet, be so cautious about not leaning into each other or brushing hands…

All he could see in his mind’s eye was taking those slender artist’s fingers with his own, pulling him right up in front of all of **them** like it was a fuckin’ movie scene-

 

You know those movies? Where people in situations such as theirs do the most outrageously chancy shit n’ everyone surprises them by _clapping_ or some such equally infuriatingly unrealistic bullshit?

Well, in Richard’s more believable version, he’d be much more likely ta’ have ta’ mess some fuckers up in order for him and his boy to escape their wrath if he dared to pull any “faggoty” stuff.

 

But… even knowing that… he still couldn’t help but wish… even if just in that moment… that he _could_ do such a thing.

Could bring their love out into the light… crush his sweet boy against him right in front of them all.

Kissing him over n’ over until he was clinging to him.

 

All dewy-eyed n’ breathless.

 

He wanted to hold him safely within his arms, his dark head resting against his chest- his _heart_ … and give them his **own** goddamn Testimony, tell **them** shortly, but in no uncertain terms that, “This is MY truth. I love this boy. He saves me from my own damn self. And, I don’t give a **_fuck_** that we’re both boys… and neither should any of you.”

Well, that was the “nice” version of what he wanted to say or do. The not so nice version…

Was a lot more X-rated for gratuitous sex and graphic violence.

 

Yeaaah, he was, uh, obviously in one of his moments of forgetting that he wasn’t simply in his own body while he thought all this as he could never even _imagine_ chancing the Kid, -let alone Jimmy-, in such a way.

In such a cheesy, low-budget rom-com sorta way.

Wasn’t even worth visualizing the scene as there was no telling how such as THEM would react to such supposed heresy-

 

But, it _wasn’t_ about being “sacrilegious”, though! It really fucking wasn’t!

It was more about **them** and their bastardization of all things good and pure-

 

HA! Imagine what those fucks would think about him calling such a “blasphemous” union pure!

How enraged they’d be… It was almost comical to envision the appalled horror on their faces!

It was-…

 

Wait.

 

Actually, on second thought, it really wasn’t all that funny.

Like, at all.

Cause **they** knew how to deal with “those” kinds, didn’t they? As soon as the shock wore off they- they’d have an “answer” to that “faggot problem”, wouldn’t they?

 

And, Richard knew that even the kindest of their solutions were tragic as fuck, and-

 

And, then, his thoughts had swirled out of control.

An’, all Richard had been able to think about as he’d pulled Jimmy along in his wake…

Rushing his boy away down those windy hallways and steep stairs… just _away_ from any curious, judging eyes...

 

Was the particular planned out future for THOSE kinds of kids.

 

And, despite what the extremity of his disquiet may lead some to believe, Richard surely hadn’t understood the brutal horrors of-of re-orientation camps, and the physical and psychological torture that awaited their little trio back then…

No, he sure as fuck hadn’t.

But, what he HAD known about was one of the things **they** loved to do to guys and girls that weren’t “quite right”. Young people that were less than entirely straight…

 

Pairing them together… like they’d done with James and Marianne… With Father and Richie’s mother…

Yes, Richard had known… because he’d grown up around it.

He’d seen it firsthand and lived with the fall-out.

 

He’d been quite young, yet already becoming so jaded, the first time he realized that things weren’t as they seemed between the Simmons and Jacquette families…

It was the kind of thing that you could never make yourself truly forget…

 

 

**~Simmons Residence~**

Currently In Residence:

Rich Simmons Senior, James Jacqette Senior,

Richard Simmons Junior, Richie Simmons the III (Mentioned),

&

Jimmy Jacqette Junior (Mentioned)

 

“C’mon, get a move on. Check-ins in an hour, an’ I’m fuckin’ starvin’… Damn woman don’t bother ta’ cook worth a damn.… Ya wanna stop somewhere, or-? Nah, I know you. Ya want _allll_ the room service. Yer fuckin’ spoiled.” Father actually sounded like he was in a genuinely good mood… until a questioning frown entered his tone, “James?... Whassamatter?... Where’s yer bag?”

“I… I…” A audibly sharp intake of breath, and Richard heard the smaller man blurt out in a nervous rush, “RichI’mSorryI’mNotI’mNotGoingAnymore.”

 

Silence.

 

Richard shifted agitatedly in the stairwell. A foot hovering uncertainly above the next step.

_Geesh._ Couldn’t even grab something from the fridge for the boys without running across some drama in this fuckin’ house…

Still, he knew enough to be cautious. He may have been just barely eleven, but he was no ordinary boy.

 

He could recognize and _feel_ the weight behind the quiet.

 

So, he did what needed to be done (Knowing little Richie and even littler Jimmy were busily and safely sequestered away in his own room industriously building some kinda… baby nerd shit.).

And, he sunk down onto a polished stair; elbows on knees, face lowered into the palms of his hands, to listen and see if their fathers would need to be distracted.

An’ in all good conscience, Richard had ta’ say that despite how astro-fuckin’-nomical the fights between Father n’ James got, at times, he hadn’t _actually_ thought that Father had ever hurt James-

Or vice versa.

Did seem a bit silly ta’ quantify that considerin’ Father so tall at 6’ 2 ½”, -6’ 5” in his boots-, and James always so small-boned n’ only 5’ 6 ½” at most… but, ya’ know… they say dynamite comes in small packages.

Regardless, Richard wasn’t willing to take that chance.

Not with James. He had helped him through… a lot of… nasty shit… at the facility… And, his mom had said he could trust him… _well_ … more than the others, anyway-

 

An annoyed sigh from Father caught Richard’s attention once more, “Doncha start with this shit, again. It’s bin a fuckin’ _week_ , James, an’ ya know, I need y-… ya know, I need ya with me… at the conference… so go an’ get yer damn bag or I’ll get it for y-”

“NO!... No… I can’t- I can’t DO this anymore! It’s-It’s killing me! I don’t want to keep doing this back n’ forth BULLSHIT!”

 

Senior seemed momentarily stunned into another bout of silence.

 

But then, he gritted out, “Thas’ _enough_ , James. You’re my right hand n’ ya fuckin’ go where I go. Ya don’t want yer bag? Fine. FUCK the bag n’ Get. In. The. Goddamn. Transport. We’ll jus’ have ta’ get ya some crap at the conference-”

“There IS NO “CONFERENCE” this week, Rich! You KNOW there isn’t! There wasn’t one **last week** , either! They aren’t every freaking week, dammit, AND EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT!” James screamed so loud and vehemently that Richard winced.

 

He was used to- he _relied on_ James always being the comparatively kind one in this… this nightmare scape he sometimes found himself trapped in… To hear him sound so infuriated, so absolutely fed up… it was-was… so frickin’ _strange_.

And, scary.

 

Father sounded tired now as he sighed, “A’right… A’right… Fine, then… Whas’ this all really ‘bout?”

 

Yes. What WAS it all about? Richard was quite confused. He and the boys hadn’t been at the compound for long at this point in time… and he spent part of that time with his “mother’s people” so… so he wasn’t always sure how everything operated in this particular gilded cage.

Why was Father taking James to conferences even at times when there were no conferences going on? How did that make any sense? What were they even doing if there were no-…

Oh.

Richard may have been pretty young, but he wasn’t _that_ young. They had already started throwing “suitable” girls at him, after all…

 

“It’s just-just-… S’not- S’not fair… to my-my wife.” James had started mumbling now.

Senior just scoffed like a huge asshole.

And, when he spoke, again, his voice had turned a little too amused, “Yer _wife?_ Good one, James. Ya know damn well pretty lil’ Marianne’s too goddamn busy diddling **_my_** so lovely blitzed-out wife to give a fuck ‘bout what YOU do. Those gals been fuckin’ ‘round since we were all kids n’ they never stopped. What? Ya think me n’ Em didn’t know ‘bout ‘em from the very start? _Pfft._ ”

 

Richard was anxiously straightening up from his slouch (That he had unknowingly sunk into as Father had gotten increasingly… upset.) at the sound of his mother’s name.

He wanted to burst into Father’s office and growl, “Why’re you talkin’ ‘bout my mother?! Don’t talk ‘bout my mother in that-that pissy-asshole voice!”

 

But, he was sidetracked by how nervously James gasped before he attempted to insist, “N-No!… No, that’s not tru-”

“Ya know damn well how true it is. They never been good at hidin’ it,” Senior went on grimly, now (Ever wondered where Richard himself got his ever so changeable “bi-polar”, “Schizo”-ness from?... Yeah. Got it in one.), “Jus’ didn’t think _I_ knew they still been at it.”

“Ohhh God,” James groaned, “Why are you even _talking_ about this?! You know we don’t just TALK about these-these things! Why… What-What are you going to do? I mean… don’t-don’t bother them about it!”

 

Even at that relatively young age, Richard already knew his Father well enough to picture the deceptively relaxed smile on his face as he rumbled, “Well, hell, James. I, mean, I DID have some plans a’ my own… All that trouble with the gals… always _tryin’_ ta’ get fuckin’ caught… probably woulda’ _slipped_ my mind jus’ like always… But, if I’m jus’ gonna be stuck here at the house…” Sounding playful, now, “Maybe, it’s time ta’ have a one-on-one with the lil’ missus ‘bout “propriety” n’ such, hmm? Think it’s time ta’ _dare_ ta’ take up her cross?”

“Don’t you-! No! You have to stay the hell away from her! You _have_ to!,” the smaller man sounded beyond panicked which was freaking Richard the FUCK out, “Marianne’s the only one that can deal with- that can keep her-… Just-Just, _NO_ , Rich! I’m not kidding! I don’t want you-!”

Voice a velvet purr, “But, you _do_ want me, James. Ya always have-”

“St-Stop it! Don’t- Rich, don’t twist my fucking words! And, how can you even joke about-about-… DAMN YOU! Everything’s a game to you! With all of _us_ as your fucking pawns! And, now, look-look how screwed we all are. And, in the end it’s YOU that did this to us! To all of us! We’re trapped here! They’ll **never** let us or any of our Blood leave, now!”

 

Ew. That “Blood” thing, again. Richard freaking HATED when they started up with all that… It was fucking freaky…

He was still relieved to hear James angry, again, rather than fearful, though.

 

James was furiously continuing, “So-So, why… why can’t you take some responsibility? Why can’t you be reasonable? Why shouldn’t… Why shouldn’t the girls still be-be a-a… whatever they are… If they can find some-some peace together in this goddamn _nightmare_ you’ve kept us all in, who are you to take that from them?…” He was silent for a moment before finishing his tirade sadly and softly, “…You know they couldn’t actually ever be happy with either of us, anyway, and- and it _isn’t_ like back when we were kids… They’re not “trying” to be caught. They never were… And, they… they know the rules, now… They’ve learned to be… extremely discreet…”

 

Senior’s response was so low, so _tender_ that if Richard wasn’t enhanced… he would have never heard him.

“An’ we’re not?... All these years t’gether… That why you’re bein’ like this?... Jamie… tell me, honey… are we not?”

 

Senior was murmuring so quietly that Richard figured that he had to have been only inches from James for the other man to have heard him.

Eventually, Richard would be better able to pinpoint entities exact locations, but… but for now he simply relied on his other enhancements.

 

“Don’t-Don’t call me any a’ that when we’re here,” James was crying softly, “… I just can’t… You ruined us! You ruined everything. You love to blame it on the girls messing up n’ getting caught, but… We should’ve all left _years_ ago, Rich! But, YOU n’ Em and your goddamn chasing ghos-”

“Shhh… Thas’ enough,” Senior was still being gentle, “We’re all still together, aren’t we? Outside, at least? All us thas’ left a’ our own. For better or worse… Here, drink this… C’mon now… you’ll feel better… I… I got yer favorite suite with the Jacuzzi tub…”

 

And, James started to freaking _sob_.

It made Richard’s fingers twitch and his chest hurt to hear him brokenly weeping through his words, “I-I don’t- I don’t… Why can’t _we_ stay at the h-house like r-regular p-people? You’re right. The girls don’t-don’t mind about-about… us. So, why can’t- Why can’t _they_ go to the- to the hotel, instead, if they want?... It’d actually be nice-be nice for them to get out for a little- a little bit-”

 

“Be nice for them to get out”?... “Why can’t _they_ go to the hotel, instead”?...

Richard tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his cheek.

Wondering how “the girls” could be the ones going to a “conference” that wasn’t even taking place…

How could that be explained? James seriously wasn’t thinking shit through.

Little Richie n’ littler Jimmy’s mothers couldn’t exactly have the understandable excuse of having simply been setting up or preparing for the next _real_ “conference”, as they called it, if there was any suspicion, now could they?

Richard couldn’t help but to try to puzzle it all out as he absently chewed on a pinkie nail in agitation…

 

“C’mon now. Quit yer cryin’,” Senior cut James off, yet still spoke in a low tone, “Ya know I don’t really mind ‘bout the details, but it jus’ don’t work that way.”

“But-But, how about- how about if-!”

And, then, James’ sobs were muffled as if Senior had drawn him to him, “Ya know we all a’ways got eyes on us. ‘magine the questions! What business the gals got ‘stablished outside the walls ta’ excuse a prolonged absence, Jamie? C’mon, ya know better.”

 

An’ Richard actually full-body _flinched_. Hearing Senior sum up exactly what he’d been thinking… even if it should’ve been an obvious conclusion to come to in the community they were in… He was pretty damn disturbed at how similar his n’ the old man’s (Who really _wasn’t_ that old at this point. Mid to late thirties, at most. So, ya know, to Richard at that age… old as fuck.) train of thought was.

 

“F-Fine…” James murmured into fabric (Yeah, must a’ been Senior’s shirt… Unless, James was holding his own shirt sleeve to his face?... Hmmm… No… The sound was too evenly stifled…), “We can stay here n’ they can stay- stay at my house with the kids and-”

 

Richard shuddered. No. No. He’d watch the boys on his own, thank you very much!

He didn’t like… didn’t like when she was around them… Didn’t want the boys around her…

So chaotic… The very air around her made his teeth ache.

 

“Jamie, no. Thas’ not how it works n’ ya damn well know it. That’d be so obvious. Sleepin’ over at each other’s houses? Whas’ next? Showcasin’ it all ta’ the neighbors in front a’ the goddamn picture windows like a pack a’ deviant fags? Ya want the kids ta’ grow up with all this, too? Want ‘em ta’ think this shit’s _normal_?,” he actually sounded more curious than cruel, before continuing in a no-nonsense manner, “Anyway, if yer all worryin’ ‘bout the gals… jus’ remember that least with how it stands now, they can claim they’re jus’ scared ta’ be home alone n’ thas’ why they stay t’gether when we’re out on business… Nobody’d question that, Jamie. In their estimation, they figure thas’ normal ‘nough-”

“Don’t- D-Don’t-… stop saying that-that WORD. I just want- want it to actually BE- I want- wanna have-”

_*Hic*_

  
Oh, wow. What had Senior given James to drink? His words were getting a little slurry and indistinct.

 

“-wanna have it BE _normal_. Like for fucking _**real**_ , Rich! I want- I wish we could- could all be NORMAL. Get to be together like normal people instead of always-always HIDING. I can’t-can’t do this… I won’t… won’t be able to do this forever, Rich! I won’t! I won’t!”

“Right. A’right. Jus’ calm down…”

 

Senior attempted to pacify him… And, you’d think… you’d think it was weird to hear Senior sound so soothing, but… honestly? And, sadly enough? He hadn’t genuinely been that bad back then.

 

“This is _our_ time, Jamie, so fuck all that, a’right? Ya know, the next few weeks are gonna be fucked. There IS a “conference” next week n’ ya know we’re gonna have ta’ buy a lot more time for him… Gettin’ a goddamn headache even thinkin’ ‘bout it… We need ta’ chill out so we can pull it t’gether an’ strategize… C’mon now, Jamie...  Ya know, I can’t do this without you.”

 

A quiet sniff.

 

“…So, lessgo an’ jus’ get yer bag, okay?... Please?...”

“… ‘kay,” A whisper of submission.

 

An’ Richard could hear Senior moving James nearer, so he stood and shifted soundlessly out of sight as the office door slid open.

And, as he listened to his Father ushering the still sniffling James out of the house, everything he had thought about the relationships between Father and Richie’s mother, and between their lifelong family friends James and Marianne, and even his own mother (As, apparently, she’d been in on all this!)… permanently shifted.

An’ even then, all those years ago, prior to him having experienced it himself, he realized how fucking sad n’ tragic it all was.

 

It was also sad to realize that Senior hadn’t _truly_ been taking James seriously. That he was more indulging n’ pacifying him than working to find a solution that didn’t end in the slow death of their decades long love affair. A relationship that was forever on the demise but never fully dead as they seemed to inevitably be drawn back to one another even when James insisted that that part of their life together was over, and Senior acted like it had never been… even as he became more and more vicious without James to consistently gentle him.

Richard would eventually come to wonder if Senior purposefully pushed the limits so that James would be forced into at least attempting to tame him.

 

It was all so twisted and beyond fucked and depressing as hell, and Richard would become _**desperate**_ for him and Jimmy (And, eventually for Simmons and Grif.) to NOT follow in their footsteps.

Having to hide was the _worst_ of things it seemed…

  
So much rot can grow in the dark.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

 

Lost in the memory, it had only been the lucky realization that he was about to walk them right past ol’ bitchface Sandra’s office that had broken the spell Richard had been under.

That had fortunately caused not only his riotous thoughts to screech to a standstill, but had also allowed him to halt him and Jimmy’s progress.

An’ of course, you’d **think** that so revealing a memory coupled with that close call with Eagle Eye’s woulda’ served as a warning to Richard to pull himself together an’ just _take Jimmy back to the **house**!_

 

But, as should be more than evident, by now, Richard could be a complete jackass even at the best of times.

 

It was just that his _need_ to claim and be claimed by his beloved boy in this hateful place… in spite of the idiocy of such a thing… it had simply been so fucking overwhelmingly **_strong_** … within the moment it had even seemed so mother fuckin’ **_justified_** …

As if something in him had really thought that maybe- just maybe… it could be different for them… that a rebellion based on genuine, honest love could fix anything… that it could whitewash those tainted walls….

 

How wrong he’d been.

 

 

And, he knew that. As he pressed closer to his sweet Raven in that blue, blue bathroom stall… still hearing those damn two of the three dudes laughing n’ talkin’ shit… realizing that _it_ had settled back into -elsewhere- sleep as apparently the memory of all that had transpired to have them end up in this position must’ve been too overwhelming for it to process…

He really DID know that... but…

 

But, you know… you know the funny thing about being young? And, growing up too fast? It’s that you… you have these moments like _allll_ the ones previously mentioned- these _flashes_ of insight, of self-awareness. Something that could almost be called **wisdom** , for fuck’s sake…

But, damn though. Between the goddamn firestorm of teenage hormones-

~~-That he’d had to go through TWICE! So how’s a fuckin’ ‘bout you give him a little break on that one, _Grif_. Go ahead n’ throw out that “Well, _someone’s_ bein’ an eternal emo teenager, again” snide ass “just fuckin’ with ya’” shit ONE more time, dude. Jus’ _once_ more. Fuckin’ **dare** y-~~

-and the whole growing up too fast n’ knowing too much… well, none of that exactly equates to any discernable degree of emotional and mental stability... Obviously.

 

So, um… yeah… so even though Richard had KNOWN that he’d fucked up, been as irresponsible as a, well, as a horny-ass pissed-off teenager in love with a POINT to prove could be…

 

Even as he’d accepted this, and swore to himself that he would NEVER let his “Schizo”-ass self lose control enough to put them in another avoidable situation such as the one they faced-

 

He’d became aware…

Underneath the noise from those annoying as all hell other dudes-

That low-level _huuummm_.

So very mild, so slight… but still… while in such a heightened state…

A signifier…

 

And, this time when his mind momentarily blanked, it was in direct response to and _denunciation of_ the very IDEA-

 

Those boys- Those other boys-

Specifically, that sooo progressively quiet one of them three that Richard had tried to discount…

 

Holy. Shit.

Richard did NOT want to accept the reality of this new development, -he never, ever did, and he would get DAMN good at denying further findings in the years to come (Which you may start to clue in on…)-

 

But right then, with his Jimmy’s subtle anchoring so focusing his own… abilities… he had no choice but to be honest with himself.

 

And, Richard was instantly glancing up at Jimmy, a hair-trigger reaction to be sure, only to see- ohhh, shit.

See exactly what he did NOT want to see.

 

-That just kept fucking happening!-

 

He saw how his Raven’s eyes had narrowed in concentration even as his fingers continued to run, -more absently than comfortingly, now-, through Richard’s hair, and-

 

Ahhhh, fu-uuuck.

 

And, Richard knew that the smaller boy felt it, too.

Even being linked on such a surface level to Richard was enough to awaken Jimmy’s own natural (HA! “Natural”. Yeah, right.) senses, and the smaller boy KNEW-

Knew… something. Things he wasn’t supposed to know. Things little Jimmy and Richie, - _always_ too quick and smart for their own good-, had been meant to leave behind…

 

Locked away in those “non-existent” underground labs behind their soundproof walls, and their-...their-

 

OhhhhOhgodohgodoh **GOD**. He couldn’t deal- couldn’t think about-…

The thought… the memory always made Richard goddamn **_sick_**.

His beloved boys… Richie… Jimmy…

 

Programmed.

_Wiped._

 

You didn’t ever _really_ think they’d allow such amalgamations, -boys of the Blood, no less!-, to leave without being wiped, did you? Even with them having been so young when they were removed from the facility, and placed within a prison of a different sort… one where sterile white walls and lab coats were replaced with diamonds and gold behind compound walls, and the long expanse of hungry waves breaking against a rocky shore… that would’ve been a dangerous prospect.

Richard had only been allowed to walk amongst both worlds without being blanked due to his usefulness to **them** , and his ability to be so easily controlled due to his attachment to his Kid, “Triple J”, and to his mother…

 

But, that... that terrible shit… was really beside the point at the moment, wasn’t it?

 

Because, Richard had to focus. Couldn’t keep gettin’ lost in memory n’ emotion-

 

This-This _situation_ was one that he really couldn’t continue to deny.

As, despite his negations, who better than Richard would be capable of unequivocally _knowing_ -

 

That another of the Blood, -diluted, or no-, was amongst them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Ruelle - War Of Hearts Lyrics Video: James and Senior’s Forever Song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49ZhrgtR-S4&list=WL&index=15)
> 
> Nothing is ever as it seems. And, regardless of how you feel toward Senior and James or anyone you may know like them, an important lesson is to learn from others mistakes so you aren’t always repeating history. DON’T let others pen your story, and ruin you. I promise you, you deserve better! ❤
> 
> I wish that the idea of young gay, bi, and lesbian people (And, everyone else that falls under the umbrella of "less than straight.") being forced into straight marriages by their religions, their families, and/or their communities was truly fiction, but unfortunately it isn’t. And, it’s easier than you may think for them to pair not altogether straight people up as those that are “different” are so often drawn to each other...I remember sitting outside at lunch break with my friends one day in particular, looking around at the guys and few girls in our little group… and, suddenly, feeling sick. I couldn’t help but think about how we were like fish in a barrel, and how easy it would be to pick even the more careful of us out considering how we gravitated toward each other. It was like I _almost_ realized the implications even then... but not quite. 
> 
> When in such a situation, eventual escape is the only option. Be careful, be smart. _Don’t_ think you have to “out” yourself just because others tell you you should. It still isn’t safe for everyone.
> 
> [ Spectrum ft. Cryaotic & Minx: A song that I wish I had heard when I was growing up, and still so trapped. It would’ve been such a comfort. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYoapICIfeE)
> 
> There’s been an awful lot going on in my life, but I am comforted by the fact that I just passed another holiday with my found, created family rather than with those that have shown such cruelty over the years toward me, and my now husband. Nothing is _easy_ , but there are small moments of genuine peace to be found. And, trust me, that is beyond price.
> 
> I hope you are all doing well, and remember that if you’re not, that’s okay, too. Hopefully, after this semester ends in the middle of December I will have time to set up the secondary posting site. Just know that it is on my list of things to do!
> 
> So very much love to you all! ♡–MissyAnn❀
> 
> Sneak Peek into Chapter 25:
> 
>   
> …He finds himself bolstering a bit more… not _meaning_ to be siphoning so much off his beloved boy, even though it’s still within safe limits….
> 
> So, he can just give the dude, who is within that moment only a few steps away from reaching the stall… and from realizing it’s locked… give this fucker a niiiiccce lil’ love tap rather than a blast…
> 
>    
> They both hear the dude gasp in pain.
> 
> And, the asshole’s friends hear him, too.
> 
>    
> “Dude?”
> 
>    
> “Fuuuuucccck…” He’s like a deflating balloon. His sig sinking slowly to the ground…
> 
> And, that should have been it. The… whatever had been pinpointed. Precise. Curious Cleats would be _fine_ in a little while, and there’d be no lasting-
> 
>    
> “Dude! What the fuck?!,” Snorty yelped questioningly as he and Quiet Dude approach, “…Are you… Are you _crying_?!”
> 
> “…F-Fuck off. S’ nothing,” he sniffs back obvious tears from the so sudden shock of pain, but still attempts to wave it off, “Jus’… allergy… S-Stupid a-allergy-”
> 
>    
> Before anyone can question how the hell “allergies” could have brought a sporty dude like Cleats to the ground-
> 
>    
>  _It_ strikes. With little to no warning. A charge of energy that Richard hardly deflects from _**blasting**_ right into Cleat’s mother fuckin’ **heart** itself. 
> 
> [“ **STUPID-STUPID-STUPID** ,” it wordlessly repeats over and fucking over on a ranting, raving loop.]...


	25. One Anchor, Two Anchor, Who’s an Anchor? Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truthfully, it was only through coming to know her that Richard had first begun to understand that this… thing… that they all shared… in its many forms and fashions… that its origins initially came down in the Blood… and that whoever the preliminary test subjects had been, the primary spark and change had occurred sometime ago, and-
> 
> And they so coveted few… they were not the first or the last or the _only_ of their kind.
> 
> It was an unsettling thought that had made Richard silently wonder…
> 
> _Who else? Who the fuck else? Were there- Were there really others? Others even somewhat like them? Others now scattered in small patches throughout the world? Offshoots hidden in plain sight?... Others in danger of being tracked down and rounded up to be used in whatever which way the powers that be deemed “necessary”?..._
> 
> Could all the seemingly paranoid things he’d heard his mom quietly ruminate or have manic episodes over in turn be a reality?...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Nerd Contract, Special Days, First official acknowledgment of “anchors” (Haven’t we heard some mention of this in passing in regards to a certain someone else?) and others of the Blood unrelated to and other than those in the compound, Dangers of getting lost in each other’s thoughts and distracted by shared consciousness, Read between the lines for a very big surprise!, More Secrets Revealed, Linking, Synching, Use of Preternatural Abilities, Results of Mad Science, Referenced Violent Use of Abilities, Repressed Memories, Conviction, Cross-dressing, Boys in Love, Learning to Trust is Paramount!, Sexism, Hypocrisy, Homophobic language/behavior
> 
> Hi! It’s been so long it isn’t even funny! (I hope the extremely long chapter helps to make up for it a bit! :D) As readers who’ve read my Notes/End Notes know, my husband and I have been dealing with a lot of issues, turmoil, and even serious health concerns since… huh… since we were practically kids? It feels like that sometimes! Throw college classes in there and I’ve been seriously swamped!
> 
> I don’t have any classes this summer so I hope to get to post more, and I plan to try to break up my chapters more so they’re easier to get up in a more timely manner.
> 
> Last but certainly not least, I want to absolutely sincerely thank each and every person that has read, kudos, commented, subbed, and/or bookmarked. I fully understand that each and every one of you reading this story are real people, not just numbers on a screen, and so I take all of that to heart. Every time the story gets some love it just motivates me to write and post more, so again thank you! I will always continue to write this story (It just has me by the throat as some stories do.), but it is literally your support that causes me to feel motivated to edit and actually _post_ what I’ve been writing! *Hugs*
> 
>  
> 
>  

_Richard had to focus. Couldn’t keep gettin’ lost in memory n’ emotion-_

_This-This _situation_ was one that he really couldn’t continue to deny. _

_As, despite his negations, who better than Richard would be capable of unequivocally **knowing** -_

 

_That another of the Blood, -diluted, or no-, was amongst them._

 

 

Instant suspicion interlaced with overpowering anxiety.

Richard would always struggle with accepting… accepting…

Any others.

 

Of course, he had _known_ there were others by that point. Sometimes it felt as if, secretly at least… he had always known.

 

It was Jackie so long ago who’d been the very first, and honestly the easiest, to identify and accept. The first one that Richard had ever recognized to be of the Blood, even while he likewise sensed- no, **knew** \- that she wasn’t further enhanced. Wasn’t additionally tampered with in the name of god and science.

James _had_ brought her along to the lab sometimes when they were little kids as he was understandably afraid to leave her alone in the compound during that particular time, but nonetheless… despite her sometime appearances in such a place… Richard had known very well that she was not initially from, or born from within or _born of_ , the facility and its antics.

She seemed to come from a somehow more “natural” order.

 

And, yet…

 

Richard had always sensed a kind of… sameness… in her. Had always known that she was _of them_ , even if not entirely _**one** of them_.

She may not have been “enhanced” as he or the boys had been, but… she was still some-fucking-how very evidently one of the Blood, wasn’t she?

 

Truthfully, it was only through coming to know her that Richard had first begun to understand that this… thing… that they all shared… in its many forms and fashions… that its origins initially came down in the Blood… and that whoever the preliminary test subjects had been, the primary spark and change had occurred sometime ago, and-

 

And they so coveted few… they were not the first or the last or the _only_ of their kind.

 

It was an unsettling thought that had made Richard silently wonder…

_Who else? Who the fuck else? Were there- Were there really others? Others even somewhat like them? Others now scattered in small patches throughout the world? Offshoots hidden in plain sight?... Others in danger of being tracked down and rounded up to be used in whatever which way the powers that be deemed “necessary”?..._

_Could all the seemingly paranoid things he’d heard his mom quietly ruminate or have manic episodes over in turn be a reality?_

  
It-... It was a fuckin’ freaky prospect, alright…

But, one that really _couldn’t_ always be denied or ignored.

 

_Especially_ , not right at that particular moment… when he and his Jimmy were trapped in that small space…

Breathing the same freaking air as one of them!

As one of the Blood that was more than evidently oblivious of his altered state…

That had no clue of the potential power that flowed through his veins...

 

So blissfully untapped and unaware…

So frighteningly ripe for the reaping.

 

Even if any ability the Quiet Dude had was dulled by the dilution of the Blood… There would always be those that would gladly snatch ones such as him up for their own nefarious as fuck purposes if given the chance.

That was just the sad reality.

 

And _knowing_ that, Richard hadn’t been able to help but lament, even years later, over WHY the guy couldn’t have been as much of a prick as his friends. As much of a callous dumb fuck as Snorty or as much of a heartless trash-mouth as Cleats.

That would’ve made it so goddamn much easier to just… let it be.

 

Of course, “letting it be” was never something Richard was good at, anyway.

Especially, not when he’d allowed himself to get so worked up about some shit that he felt absolutely freaking _accountable_ for its outcome.

When he was so undeniably **_sure_** of the dude’s unenlightened state that he couldn’t _help_ but to feel responsible for him…

 

And, in case there was any question as to how the hell Richard was so utterly certain that Quiet Dude was _completely_ , even on a subconscious level, unaware of his coming from or being of the Blood-

Well, it wasn’t that big of a mystery.

 

Quiet Dude just hadn’t… hadn’t even briefly but unintentionally… touched… their minds in the way those of their kind often tended to.

Just a slight connection, an unspoken spark of recognition shared.

There hadn’t even been that purposeful seeking that some Anchors, - _especially_ one in particular-, apart from Jimmy that Richard and Simmons would know later (Who were usually SO much more laid-back, -some might even call it _lazy_ in certain cases-, in their approach.) tended to unthinkingly allow themselves from time to time…

 

Yep… The quiet dude very noticeably hadn’t had the slightest of clues, and THAT was never an easy thing to deal with when there was always that underlying drive to Protect those that were like them; their little trio, even in the mother fucking minutest of ways.

 

It was all so fricking stressful, to say the least, and considering how unsettling all these realizations were, it would’ve been the perfect time to figuratively “take a chill pill”-

But, this was **Richard** , who was never the best at defusing situations or at calming his own state of mind, and his much-loved smarty-pants Simmons wasn’t even currently awake and aware to add his own internal logical two cents as it were. To break everything down into variables and statistics in order to help Richard see past his own overwrought view of it all-

Of course… even if Simmons _had_ been awake or “there”, so to speak… Richard wouldn’t have been capable of allowing himself to lean on him at such times, anyway.

He was too fearful of the possible consequences. 

 

And, son of a bitch, it was So. Goddamn. Hard!

 

Because on TOP a’ all that, Richard had abruptly realized that he couldn’t even confide in his Jimmy, -which was the one thing that kept him sorta sane more often than not-, right then either!

The need for silence was vital in that moment, after all, and Richard was still deliberately fighting against the idea that there need be no sound present within their communiqué…

 

And, as a result of all this… _mess_ … with no outlet for his anxiety and as if their circumstances weren’t **nearly** perilous enough as they were…

Richard proceeded to only make matters **_worse_**.

 

Instead of keeping cool, which was essential in a situation such as the one he and his Jimmy (And, even unknowingly the KID, as well.) were in… he had once again allowed his overemotional ass to become momentarily so caught up, so damnably worked up by the turn of his thoughts…

 

That he was completely unaware of how potentially, dangerously **obvious** his agitation had become.

How he was anxiously shifting and even lightly but incessantly Clicking. His. Teeth. like a frickin’ **spaz** on the verge of a full on “episode”-

 

He surely looked like a goddamn NUTCASE-

 

But, hell, he was just so fucking SICK of bearing the burden of silence alone.

In that moment it’d felt so particularly unbearable…

That it just _mighta_ been drivin’ him absolutely batshit.

 

He HATED the secrets and the lies.

 

Despite what could be thought about Richard and the secrets he held… he certainly never had been and never would be one to simply _gladly n’ willfully_ keep silent when there was shit to be said.

Nope.

He was always bitter n’ distressed about it.

 

An’ you better believe that was as true in that moment as it had ever been.

 

Even while he may have deeply felt and understood the need to keep the Kid innocent of… everything… for a while longer…

 

To have had to likewise hide crap from his Jimmy!

To have been unable to allow himself to turn to his Raven, his young yet forever partner, when he so needed to!

 

It was Too. Goddamn MUCH!

 

How badly Richard wanted to **speak**.

To fully confide in his sweet boy and ask him what the fuck the right thing was to do...

 

A blessed comfort that he would be afforded in time.

 

However, that welcome indulgence (And, yes. It _would_ feel goddamn indulgent after all the years of dealing alone.)… well, that wasn’t a thing at that point.

And, euuughhh that sucked! Cause it was hard to quantify how _badly_ , within **that** very moment, Richard wanted to be able to ask his Jimmy…

Ask him if maybe- maybe they should somehow- somehow… warn?… warn the dude? The Quiet Dude? If maybe they should find a way to say… something… say something… to do some- something…

 

But, what in the actual fuck **could** be done in such a moment?

And, what could _possibly_ be **said**?

Especially, when they were both (Well, technically, all three.) in a position where it was legitimately dangerous to speak… And, not just within THAT particular inopportune moment but… but at all…

 

It was a hell of a position to be in-

And, it wouldn’t be the last time Richard was faced with such a conundrum...

 

But, at least- at least, that time… that time he was lucky - no, he’d even go as far as to again say frickin’ _blessed_ \- to have his sweet boy, his Anchor with him to help steady him enough, even if entirely silently, so he could better shoulder the weight.

The weight…

The weight of the goddamn GUILT.

Guilt of being unable to do anything but to ultimately allow the pieces to fall where they may for someone like Quiet Dude. Someone who was of them in some way, even if not one of their very own.

 

It was one of those things that would always eat at Richard. Always kinda gnaw away at him if he let it.

Although… considering all the inner turmoil he would continuously live with regarding the fucked shit that would happen in the years to come… all the second-guessing and regret for everything that he hadn’t said for so goddamn long to-to… the others of their kind… that they’d know later… about their own so evident origins…

Gotta admit that the guilt about the Quiet Dude from all that time ago was…

Well, it was sorta small beans.

 

But, it didn’t FEEL that way in that moment.

In fact, it felt so immense-

_-To intentionally leave one of the Blood to their eventual fate-_

**Colossal** …

_-Even if from another strain, a different “Blood”line-_

_**All-consuming**_ …

_-It just felt WRONG._

 

So wrong.

So devastatingly wrong that even _with_ Jimmy’s so very subtle yet vital anchoring…

 

Richard was abruptly overtaken by it.

 

And, he found himself tilting his head up.

Gazing beseechingly at Jimmy who was still staring thoughtfully off into middle distance.

 

And, Richard was opening his mouth…

Closing it.

Opening it again.

Like a damn fish d-dr-drowning on air.

 

He was trying to- trying to-

 

Shit, let’s be real. He didn’t have a fucking clue what his spastic-ass self was trying to do...

-Likely some unsurprisingly Schizo shit-

 

But, that was when his sweet boy’s so dark eyes were thankfully turning to and focusing back on his.

Clearly seeing and _feeling_ Richard’s so evident heightened distress, -which he was beyond attempting to mask-, and wanting to understand and help.

 

And, upon feeling those slender artist’s fingers slipping out of his hair and moving down to comfortingly press to the too quick pulse point on the side of his throat…

 

Richard was able to swallow back the words that had wanted to burst forth from his mouth.

 

Because, he’d seen.

Looking into his boy’s eyes within that moment when he needed it so goddamn badly…

He’d finally seen exactly what he needed most right then.

 

Acceptance. Above all else, always acceptance.

 

And, all such disturbing thoughts and concerns about Quiet Dude, and “the Blood”, and the possibility of any others… were swept aside for a while longer.

As they had to be.

 

Because the reality was… it wasn’t just that it was easier… easier to stick together.

To stay within their little triad rather than to dare-

To even DARE to take such a chance and allow anyone else into their confidence…

 

It was safer.

 

Simple as fucking that.

It was fuckin’ safer.

 

Maybe that seems selfish.

Hell…

It probably WAS selfish.

But, at such a time it had also been necessary and damnably realistic.

 

Simmons, Jimmy…

 

They were Richard’s nearest and dearest, his **family**.

Therefore, they’d had to be his priority.

He couldn’t take the chance of opening up all their secrets to someone else if there was any possibly doing so could backfire and cause his own to be in danger…

No.

Such things couldn’t be.

It was depressing sure, but easier to bear when truly aware of how much could be lost if shit went bad-

 

And, Richard had been luckily reminded of that…

Just from the simple act of looking into his sweet Jimmy’s eyes and seeing the Kid’s (And, what had been his own, by that point.) reflected back at him….

 

 

Richard sincerely couldn’t help the so soft sigh that escaped him as Jimmy’s hand moved to cup the back of his neck and gently pull him closer.

So he could rest his cheek against his little belly.

The smaller boy was no longer quivering with nerves.

His deep-seated need to soothe an overtly distraught Richard had overtaken any lingering fears of his own…

And that alone fortified Richard.

 

Again, his sweet boy’s fingers moved back up to lovingly run through his hair…

 

And Richard was so genuinely and successfully soothed, not to mention extraordinarily thankful to have his boy’s love and support when he most needed it-

That he had a moment- a moment to think that maybe… maybe everything _would_ be alright, after all.

 

Maybe the dudes would just fuck off out of the bathrooms and out of their lives with no ramifications to any of them for crossing each other’s paths-

Maybe, all he and Jimmy _really_ needed to do was chill n’ wait it out, and-

Maybe, he, and the Kid, and Jimmy would be cooking dinner and marathoning nerd shows before he knew it, and all would be… would be well…

 

What nice, fluffy thoughts, huh?

 

Richard couldn’t help but think later how sometimes it seemed to strangely be _right_ when you decided to let yourself chill… that shit started to _really_ hit the fan.

Because, it was within seconds of finally allowing himself to truly calm…

That Richard was completely taken out, it almost felt like **torn out** , of any more peaceable thoughts-

 

As a bark of carelessly cruel laughter erupted from MUCH too near.

 

And, he and Jimmy both _**jolted**_ slightly and simultaneously as the mean-spirited merriment seeming to fucking **surround** them.

To fill the room to its very capacity.

 

Jimmy’s hand instantly began unthinkingly tightening into a nervous fist in Richard’s hair, and-

 

“Maaaaan, she’s such a dumb _**bitch**!_ ” Cleats exclaimed snidely.

He sounded like he’d, at some point unbeknownst to Richard or Jimmy, wandered over to the mirrors.

To the MIRRORS! Which were ridiculously near-

Like only a couple- no _less than_ a couple yards away!

 

And, as if THAT wasn’t bad enough-! _Christ_ , dude! The crap he n’ Snorty were _saying!_

 

Though, neither Richard nor Jimmy had been allowing themselves to consistently pay too close attention to what the dudes had been spewin’ out as they had had to focus on keeping it together-

All at once, Richard seriously couldn’t focus on _any-damn-thing_ anymore but what Cleats n’ his mother f’n loudmouth buddy were blabbing on about!

 

Ah, man! If you coulda’ HEARD ‘em!  


All animatedly trash talkin’ in much too boisterous tones. Spewin’ crap that shouldn’t be blabbed about in such a uppity-ass place such as the Academy-

Hell, crap that really shouldn’t be so tactlessly spoken of at all!

 

The jackasses were just lettin’ it all out.

Tellin’ tales about weed n’ booze and tranqs n’ uppers and about fucking around with and _fucking over_ different chicks in the Academy.

Snorty and Cleats seemed to find it _especially_ entertaining to openly talk about a chick they’d both gone out with…

And both sweet-talked into messing around **way** more than a “snotty lil’ bitch like her” (According to Cleats.) had initially wanted to-

 

Suddenly, even Quiet Dude seemed to have had more than he could take of their bull, and he spoke up though in a very low voice, “Hey, c’mon. That’s enough, dude-”

Snorty instantly jumped in, “Ah, you’re jus’ jealous you didn’t get a piece,” He let out a loud guffaw, “Don’t worry, man! She was BOR-RING!”

 

Quiet Dude sighed in absolute and obvious disgust but said no more.

 

But, Cleats… fuck, the dude was a real piece a work… he snarked out, “Fuck, man! What's your problem? Don’t gotta be such a pussy _fag_ about it. She’s jus’ some **slut** … Right? _Right?_... Well, anyway... fuck her. Least we got _somethin’_ outta her.”

 

Snorty tossed out a cheerful and clearly conciliatory “Halleluiah, Brother!”-...

 

And, as the two’s laughter once again surrounded them-

Richard had to bite his lip so he didn’t curse aloud at how hard Jimmy’s fingers reflexively and furiously dug into his scalp.

  
And, of course, he wasn't _unaware_ of how the particular brand of duplicity and hypocrisy that these dudes; who were upheld as such “Godly” young men in their community and who comported themselves as such only when it was to their benefit, stood for was one of the things his Raven, as well as the Kid, hated most of all, so it wasn’t like Richard was _surprised_ by his boy’s automatic and angry reaction.

 

That hadn't made it hurt any less, though!

 

Richard nipped him lightly to get his attention back, and Jimmy promptly loosened his iron grip.  
  
Massaging his scalp apologetically even as he continued to otherwise get exceedingly dismayed.

 

Because, although, the dudes had chilled enough to start bullshitting about banalities (Likely for Quiet Dude’s sake… who seemed to have a lot more pull over the other two when he chose to use it.)… Still bein’ noisy n’ rambunctious but at least less vulgar…  
  
It appeared that upon truly processing the just _spiteful_ way the two dudes had been talking about girls…

 

Jimmy had begun to feel overpoweringly “convicted”, as he would put it.

 

He was always quick to be sorry when he recognized any personal wrongdoing… and quick to let disappointment in himself overtake all else.

-It was one of the less fortunate things that Richard and Jimmy would connect on on an almost _visceral_ level-

 

And, though Richard irrevocably knew that his Raven would never _dream_ of using or fucking over any chicks as these dudes so gladly had and would-

He still saw the _**guilt**_ flash across his sweet boy’s suddenly too pale face.

 

And, he knew… knew even prior to their synching so fully and irreversibly-  


He knew that Jimmy was thinking of his own sometimes callous words.

Thinking of how his flashes of jealousy caused him to snap out blanket statements of “sluts” and “whores” when referring to anyone Richard had “known”, if you could call it that, prior to him.

Thinking of how his insecurity had sporadically caused him to believe that since Richard had previously always been with “100% full-time real girls” that he couldn’t possibly _really_ want to be with someone like Jimmy… and then flipping on a dime and claiming that Richard must have _always_ really been into guys or why would he even be with someone “born a boy” at all instead of with “one of his freaking rude as all h-hell sl-sluts!”

 

God, his sweet baby could be such a troubled soul back then.

Of course, Richard hadn’t always helped matters with the thoughtless shit he’d tended to periodically blurt out...

 

-Luckily, all this would get better with time. Their bond was too strong to allow them to ever permanently part so they literally HAD to work on their, uh… “issues”-

 

However, right then wasn’t the time.

And, though, Richard had FELT how upset his boy was…

Felt it vibrating right through him.

Felt how much he was hating himself for ever having been, as he saw it, “like **them** ” about and toward the “true” females amongst them-

 

-Especially when he had a sister like Jackie who only proved how fuckin’ fierce n’ damn loyal and loving chicks could really be-

 

Richard, though he wanted nothing more than to give Jimmy the comfort that he so often gave him… was STILL so damn caught up with playing the denial game about their abilities…

-To the point that attempting to break through that inborn anchor barrier in order to comfort and speak one-on-one wasn’t even on his radar-

That he simply figured that he would have to make due with pacifying kisses and tender touches until they were truly alone again and could speak aloud.

 

He was so busy NOT thinking about truly linking-

That he didn’t even immediately clue in when _Jimmy_ jus’ up an’ did it!

(Though, as the Kid could tell you much later, it apparently wasn’t uncommon for an anchor, even a “lazy as fuck” one, to unknowingly take that first step.)

 

Just prior, Richard had been giving Jimmy those soft, appeasing kisses and lightly rubbing his fingers over the satiny silk that his boy wore…

When, at the sight and feel of the glossy material, he’d very briefly thought how odd it was that Jimmy had even been secretly dressed up underneath his clothes when he normally only did such things with Richard or while alone in the comparative safety of his house…

 

And, Richard had been so caught up in these speculations (Which were also an honest attempt to once more distract himself from the hateful fucks that, though more chill, STILL hadn’t fucked off.) that he honestly and almost embarrassingly didn’t even realize that the ever so tenuous link he and his boy had been sharing…

Had entirely solidified.

That Jimmy had fucking finally let down that “annoying anchor shield”, as the Kid, in a snit over a certain fatass, would years later come to call it, enough to actually _allow_ it to.

 

That was the thing about being so well-matched, so drawn to each other on such a strangely “otherworldly” level… the connection you shared could at times be so smooth, so natural… that you didn’t even realize it when you’d linked, and then fuckin’ BAM you were in each other’s heads.

 

And with this being the case, the moment Jimmy “heard” Richard wondering over why he had chanced “dressing up” even underneath his clothes outside the comparative safety of his house-

 

He’d recalled and instantly shown Richard _exactly_ why.

 

And, Richard was… was so indescribably touched that Jimmy had finally really and truly “let him in” that he simply shifted silently somehow even closer to him.

Grateful to take in and absorb every thought, every nuance that his Raven would entrust him with…

Immersed in his stream of consciousness…

 

Jacquette Household: Jimmy’s Room – That Morning

  
His dad wasn’t in the best mood that morning. Jimmy’d heard him quietly arguing with “Rich” on his datalink earlier, and though his dad would’ve normally already be gone for the day (or weekend considering it was Friday.), by then, he’d been held up by the multiple calls.

 

Jimmy was busily playing with his long raven hair in his full length bedroom mirror when his dad finally got off the line.

Nothing at all extreme.

Simply pulling it up into a high ponytail rather than the socially acceptable low one that the boys were begrudgingly allowed.

 

Jimmy was turning his head from side to side, and smiling at how his hair swung prettily to and fro, when his dad’s head unexpectedly poked into his open doorway, and he started to ask, “Jimmy, aren’t you and Richie going to be late for class? He might’ve gone on without y-”

Jimmy still had _plenty_ of time (AND, he was momentarily offended that his dad thought Simmons would even do such a thing! Sure, he might throw a fit over it as he crafted and keyed in excuse codes, but he was too loyal to just up and leave Jimmy behind even if it DID make him late.)… but, it wasn’t the realization of the actual time that had caused his father to cut himself off.

No. It was the registering of how Jimmy’d been playing with his raven locks in such a… particular… fashion… that was what caused him to visibly **flinch** … and go silent.

 

And, Jimmy froze like he’d been caught doing something seriously BAD.

 

After a long quiet moment, his dad softly though stiltedly said, “Jimmy... stop that. Don’t-… You can’t-… You look like a-… That’s how girls wear their hair, okay? Alright?”

 

 

~Even as caught in Jimmy’s recollection of the events of that morning as he was… Richard couldn’t help but wince. Though he’d known he wasn’t the first to utilize those calming trigger words to get these potentially dangerous boys into a safer state of mind, he hadn’t quite allowed himself to realize that ~~one of the main Handlers from before~~ James still used them on Jimmy…

He’d be **insanely** infuriated… if he wasn’t guilty of the same.~

 

 

Jimmy _instantly_ pulled the hair tie out.

Fiddling with it apprehensively, and stepping back from the mirror.

Looking meekly at the ground and whispering, “I’m-I’m sorry.”

 

And, he thought his normally easily appeased father would be satisfied and let it go at that…

 

But…

 

He quickly glanced back up when his dad walked into the room and over to him.

The breath catching in his throat when he saw how his generally easygoing enough, -toward him, his sister, mother, and Simmons anyway-, father… was frowning slightly at him.

 

And, Jimmy had a _flash_ of fear.

Thinking of his father’s… best friend, he guessed? They were always together… who was Simmons’ and Richard’s father, and fearing that his _own_ father may unaccountably react in a decidedly different and more over-the-top fashion that was more in line with Simmons Senior’s line of reasoning than his own, and-!

 

But, he only gently took the hair tie from Jimmy’s fidgety fingers.

Pulled and tied his hair back into that acceptable low tail…

And, touching the top of Jimmy’s now bowed head, he murmured, “Don’t be sorry… Just don’t be-… Just-… You have to be-… **be careful** …”

 

Jimmy sniffed back tears of shame and gave a barely perceptible nod-

 

 

~But, Richard clearly saw that he hadn’t _really_ understood precisely what James had meant. After all… Jimmy hadn’t currently been aware of his father’s secret life with Richard and Simmons’ father (Let _alone_ about Marianne n’ that always potentially rampant redhead that was Richie’s mother!) or… or of how deeply his father understood and was legitimately terrified of what the future could hold for Jimmy, or Simmons (Who was nearly a second son to him in many ways.) for that matter, if they didn’t tread carefully... or of so many other things…

Considering how MUCH he didn’t know about the hidden nuances behind nearly every word, about what was really going on… Richard wasn’t surprised to see Jimmy overwhelmed with a rush of teenage rebellion not long after James left the room…

And, Richard closed his eyes as he felt his Raven tremble with hurt and offense at the memory of…~

 

 

His hands tightening into fists. Nails biting into soft skin. The thoughts whispering and tumbling rapidly through his mind.

 

_‘What- What does HE know about any of this stuff, anyway!-’_

 

 

~Richard could feel- actually **feel** how unbearably trapped- trapped in his own skin, in his own life Jimmy had felt in that moment… Where only moments earlier all that- that continuous turmoil within him had felt more… bearable and controlled. And, he heard how furious the smaller boy’s thoughts turned…~

 

 

_‘-Making me feel bad- like-like nasty **garbage** just cause I-I… cause I DARED to play around with “girly” hairstyles in **my own room!** As if I don’t have ANY say in how I want to look! Ha! If he thinks just the **hair** is such a big freaking deal, imagine if-!... If-…’_

 

 

And, then, just like _that_ , within the space of a heartbeat, Jimmy was decided.

 

And, he’d been hurrying to his “secret stash.”

Snatching up a few favored treasures.

Dashing off to and locking himself in his bathroom.

Pulling off his shoes, socks, slacks, boxers…

 

And, slipping into satiny silk.

 

Sighing softly and contentedly as he adjusted himself to fit more comfortably within the silky confines.

Re-dressing in such a tranquil state of mind that it was almost enviable to recall.

 

So fucking numbed to the pain of his parent’s endless rejection of any outward visage of his true self…

That he was more than able to face the day.  


✾ ✾ ✾ ✾ ✾ ✾ ✾ ✾

 

As the vivid memory petered off, Richard pressed another placating kiss to his boy’s smooth skin.

 

Though, the happenings of that morning may seem comparatively small to some-

Richard had known, even all that time ago, that it’d stood for so much more.

 

Don’t act like or look like who you are inside if it isn’t acceptable to your family and your community.

Don’t **dare** step out of line.

 

Don’t be YOU.

 

Even if Jimmy could find comfort in secrecy… it still clearly ate at him.

Because, although James and Marianne had normally been pretty chill with him overall, Jimmy had known damn well, perhaps more from Simmons’ life experiences than his own at that point, that the one thing that was NEVER okay-

 

Was any “ **girly** shit”.

 

It was so true it wasn’t even funny. And, in fact, the simple acknowledgement of it was enough to have Richard, whose mind could jump all over the place even when he wasn’t in an anxious state as you surely know goddamn well by now, instantaneously bridge directly from that thought to the next-

 

Cause speaking a’ that supposed “girly shit”… Those “silky surprises”?

They really hadn’t been meant for Richard, had they?

 

Of fucking course they hadn’t.

 

So easy to forget...

To think of it all as… as simply a “sex” thing…

 

And, it wasn’t that they didn’t enjoy it in that way together… they sure as fuck did and always would.

 

But… but this had obviously just been for himself. Jimmy had worn those silky secrets under his regular clothes to make himself feel better and more internally secure throughout the day.

With no idea that Richard would find out about it until after they were back at the house-

 

Hell, or perhaps… perhaps, he hadn’t actually planned to let him in on the secret even then.

 

They always changed out of their annoying-ass uniforms and into regular, comfy clothes the second they got home, and maybe Jimmy even would’ve made some excuse to go change out of sight so Richard wouldn’t see, or suspect, or worriedly scold-

Maybe he’d planned to hide it all from _him_ right then as much as he did from everyone else.

Hide it like it was some dirty secret.

MAYBE he was afraid to **really** trust Richard with everything after all, and maybe-!

 

Jimmy, linked to Richard though they still were not directly internally speaking; but rather sharing that stream of consciousness, was overwhelmingly troubled by his thoughts.

Thinking of his father, again.

Remembering the way he’d frowned at him.

Thinking of how it was _Richard_ that was the only one who DID accept him for who he really was and was comfortable with being (Other than Simmons, but he hadn’t known everything, yet.), and how his father just-just… wanted him to behave and look “correctly” and-and-!

 

And, then, Jimmy’s mind had started going a million miles a minute, and it had almost been difficult for even Richard to continue to keep up with him.

 

However, once he DID catch up… once the smaller boy’s surges of emotion had solidified into the more tangible thoughts they represented… this was what they amounted to…

 

 

~ _Can’t **believe** Richard doesn’t understand how MUCH I trust him! Sure, maybe, I DID mean to-… not hide it exactly, but… not… bring it up?... And, so maybe I even woulda’ changed… outta sight? Maybe, right back into other “unmentionables”, but… with Richard none the wiser?_

 

_But, that's beside the point!_

 

_It wasn’t like it was cause a’ being **afraid** of how Richard would respond, or anyth-! _

_Well…_

_Okay, maybe not afraid but-_

 

_Kinda... worried?_

 

_Worried Richard would be angry about the whole “being chancy” thing._

_Worried he’d be totally freaked out at the very least._

_Worried he- he wouldn’t be as apt to be accepting if there was any sign of needless carelessness with these **absolutely** unacceptable secrets, and-!_

 

_Yeah… definitely would’ve kept such a rebellious act- daring to wear “silky surprises”, as Richard called them, outside the house hush-hush… just to keep the status quo…_

 

_It was always safer that way, after all._ ~

 

 

Jimmy actually _nodded_ to himself despite how unhappy his thought process had made him.

As if he’d worked it all out.

 

Richard, on the other hand-

 

Shit… he was feelin’ a little stunned.

 

It was just… you know how sometimes you think some upsetting crap but you don’t actually let yourself _believe_ it?

And, then, when it turns out you’d had it right all along, you’re all dumbfounded n’ like, ‘No fuckin’ way!’

That was how Richard felt, right then.

 

Easily worked up sons a bitches like Richard could probably relate.

 

He’d built up this whole scenario in his head where Jimmy had been planning on bein’ all sneaky-sneaky n’ skulking off somewhere to change cause he wasn’t sure if he could count on Richard not getting pissed, _let alone_ on his support-

And, he wouldn’t have actually believed it, but he’d been right!

 

And, it was honesty this.

 

Jimmy’s inadvertent confirmation that he had actually thought that it was ultimately better to hide such things from Richard rather than to chance his disapproval or ire… _that_ was what truly brought Richard to his knees.

 

Figuratively as well as literally, now.

 

And, he completely forgot.

In that moment, they both did.

Forgot that there were still others in that bathroom with them.

That there were fearful heritages to be faced.

Dilutions and progenies to be contended with.

 

So intent on comfort and the assurance that between them two, within their private world, there need never be forced secrets and hidden truths…

 

Not when it came to things such as this. (And, eventually… not with anything.)

 

Richard was so desperate to assure his sweet boy that there would never be judgment or that general lack of acceptance for who they were at their core-

 

-That there was nothing “unacceptable” about him!-

 

That he was gently scratching his nails over silk, pressing silent yet nearly frantic kisses to his boy’s inner thighs, his finally softened, yet instantly reawakening, length.

There were still no silent words exchanged, yet every touch, every brush of his lips, whispered the mute mantra, ‘I love you. I _accept_ you. Trust me. Please trust me.'

 

And…

 

A small noise.

Little more than an incredibly low, but still sharp exhale escaped Jimmy’s lips-

 

And, despite how mother fuckin’ LOUD n’ rowdy those fucktards were being…

 

Snorty asked, “You hear somethin’?”

 

Richard and Jimmy froze.

 

And, everything afterward seemed to happen within snapshots of moments.

 

“Think someone’s in here?,” Snorty asked the others worriedly… but, then, though he came no closer to the stall, he let out a to be expected snort of laughter and cried out, “Hey! Uh… If someone’s here fixin’ ta’ sneak a smoke… ya better share!”

 

Quiet Dude murmured edgily that he hadn’t heard anything.

 

Smart guy.

 

But, Cleats, though… Well, he was apparently a real curious son of a bitch…

“Handi-cap stall’s closed,” he informed the other two-

As he very audibly clomped a few steps closer to the stall.

 

-And, Richard was abruptly struck by the idea… Fancy what HE, Cleats: Almighty Soccer Player Extraordinaire, would think of Jimmy’s “Soccer Socks”!-

 

Another piggy laugh from Snorty, “It’s _always_ closed, dude. No one wants ta’ fuck with the creepy crip stall.”

 

Curious Cleats was edging nearer and near.

Suspicion fucking _sparked_ off his sig…

Though, he was still strangely cautious.

 

And, Jimmy’s fear was so palpable…

There had ~~only been one other time~~ never been another time at that point that Richard had seen him so legitimately _scared_ …

 

~~Don’t think about the water. Don’t think about the water.~~

 

Despite the beginnings of all this _madness_ … when Richard and the Kid’s merger and Jimmy being “brought into their confidence” (Silly as he had always know. ) was still new… even when Jimmy had told Richard, as he’d been taught to do when he or _it_ was outta control, that Richard was “scaring him”-

 

A surefire way to bring both Richard and even it to heel.

 

Richard had always felt relief in knowing that his boy wasn’t _truly_ in a state of genuine fear.

 

But, that moment… in the Academy bathrooms… was different.

It was the first time ~~since a time of water and rocks and a hellacious h-hospital that he refused to remember~~ that Richard saw what naked terror looked like on his sweet boy’s face…

 

And, it brought him such-such… agonized **_rage_**.

 

Richard saw Jimmy bite painfully hard into his own lip.

Hard enough to very nearly fucking _draw blood_.

Almost like he was subconsciously punishing himself for daring to have accidently made a revealing sound in the midst of those that would hate, and _hate_ , and _**hate-**_

 

And, that was the tipping point.

 

Seeing his sweet baby _hurting_ himself because of all this…

-Because of some asshole dudes that had been alerted to their presence-

That pushed Richard… and that pushed that which lived within him… entirely over the edge.

 

Fury and intense possessiveness rose within like a tidal wave-

 

Jimmy’s fingers tangling in his hair.

Tears of fear rather than pleasure filling… and, about to overflow from his so beautiful dark eyes…

So devastated at the knowledge of all the disgust, the derision, and violent hatred that was only moments away.

 

They were making his sweet baby so afraid.

 

_Endangering the family-the **pack**._

 

There was no more room for compassion or mercy for those outside the pack.

Not when all attention must be entirely focused on Doing. The. Work.

 

And, even as Snorty piped out a seemingly outta the blue complaint about “how bitchin’ _cold_ ” it had all the sudden gotten-

Richard’s hand was gliding up Jimmy’s hip, his belly, to his chest.

 

His fingers sliding across creamy skin.

Settling in the space between his (HIS, _HIS_ , _**HIS**_!) Raven’s so pretty, pink, -yet still belonging to a BOY-, nipples-

His precious boy’s heart… racing, racing…

 

‘Til Richard captured that too rapid pulse.

 

Linking while **_purposefully_** synchronizing as never before.

Getting right _inside_ him.

 

So much… So much easier to sync when connected to the very beat of another’s heart…

 

An uncontrolled shudder of _relief_ ran from Richard to his sweet boy.

Like a mini electric spark- an arc finally, truly and absolutely re-connecting them…

 

And-

 

They were wholly linked, again. After all those years… since back in the facility… when his Jimmy was an infant, and Richard himself was naught but a boy-child…

Linked, -no, not only linked, but _synched_ -, in that forever way that was deeper and more complete than any other rather than ones of their own could ever understand…

 

It was so much **more** than only sharing thoughts.

Even at its basest of levels, it was being capable of feeling what the other felt, of being _within_ them even from without.

 

Such a strange and beautiful thing-

 

But, rather than the words of love and acceptance so needed in such a raw moment, it was his sweet boy’s abject terror bleeding through… THAT was the first thing… that of all things was the first sensation that flowed between them-

Even as Richard heard his beloved’s voice mindlessly praying n’ pleading as if it were his own thoughts only in his Jimmy’s voice…

[ _Oh God, oh God, oh Jesus! Please-Please, don’t let this happen! Don’t let them see- Make them go away! Make them go away!_ ]

 

It only caused Richard’s rage to intensify.

Caused him to be overwhelmed by the thought… the thought of what ones such as this younger generation of **them** would think or do upon seeing such a telltale scene…

 

With both boy’s sweaters and Jimmy’s pants hanging initially neatly over the handicap bar… before obviously having been haphazardly shoved to the far end of it to drape unevenly.

A fancy woven belt dangling down from the slacks belt loops n’ nearly touching the tile below it.

Jimmy’s shoes off his narrow little feet n’ tossed carelessly across the bathroom stall…

 

And, of course, not to mention how they themselves would appear captured in such a moment of decadent “depravity”!

Envision Jimmy all lovely n’ pale in nothing but his unbuttoned crisp oxford… and pretty black panties with those sweet lil’ rose red bows.

 

-The matching silky stockings with their more extravagant satin bows placed atop their patterned black lace trim would be just the icing on this cake- this “fruitcake”!-

 

Richard on his knees before him. A satiny slim thigh hiked up to rest on his shoulder.

Both their faces flushed. Raven n’ red hair loose and in wild disarray from each other’s hands always playing with and pulling on the strands.

And, with Jimmy’s arousal, though flagging in fear, still fully in evidence. Still saliva-slick n’ glistening from Richard’s attentions...

Oh! And, _added to_ all a’ that, let’s not forget about the litter of hickeys and love bites currently visible on Jimmy’s otherwise flawless skin. Possessive marks, both old and new, that would surely tell these boys a tale. Let them know that this unequivocally was not even _close_ to the first time he and his ever so willing Jimmy had indulged in such “abhorrent”, “sinful” acts, and-

 

Jimmy’s inner moan of dread _resonated_ throughout every molecule of Richard’s being-

 

And, he remembered.

Remembered that Jimmy was hearing and sharing his thoughts as clearly as Richard was his own.

 

And, the soccer dude was so close, TOO close.

 

[ _Richard, **do** something!_ ]

 

Jimmy’s plea, his very evident and very sudden acknowledgement of their linking even in the midst of his panic, was what finally brought it all together.

 

But, still… there was the slightest of pauses…

So terrifying. To realize that despite being “wiped”… Jimmy had the capacity to- to remember.

 

- _Jesus!_ Did that mean the Kid did, too? DID IT?!-

 

Even, now… years later… _still_ so goddamn… damn s-scary… cause what if-what if the wrong person found out? Clued in to the fact that this “wiping” was truly nothing more than forced repression and dissociation to the point of mental detachment from one’s own past… What if one of them realized that the secrets of all the travesties they’d imparted on those so young was something that may one day be accessible?...

How many more innocent young ones would be fucking KILLED, straight out murdered rather than “wiped” of the memory of all the sins committed against them?

 

Richard would give in, and eventually end up having numerous talks with Grif regarding such things in the upcoming years, and… to be completely honest?

It’d be such a mother fuckin’ _gift_ to be able to speak of such things to someone who understood. Who understood the love and the fear and the **weight** that came hand in hand with wanting to protect those you’d been tasked with watching over when you were still much too young for such a thing.

But, of course, none of them had known Grif back then so…

 

Richard had to shove all troubled thoughts aside so he could just Do. The. Work.

 

And, he was taking a quick, sharp _pull_ from his boy-

Augmenting as need be if he wanted the strength to be more… precise.

-Which equated to less destructive-

 

And, like a marionette with loosened strings, Jimmy immediately began slowly, almost gracefully, slumping against the hand Richard had pressed to his slender chest.

 

He looked moments from slipping into a sudden but serene doze…

 

But, they were so deeply connected, not only in that moment but always and at all times… that Jimmy still _**felt**_ it.

Felt it strongly enough to rouse himself-

Felt that very _instant_ that Richard easily broke past any of Cleat’s natural securities, and-…

 

[ _*Gasp* Richard! D-DON’T! Don’t you dare actually k-kill him! NO!-_ ]

 

Huh… Although, he hadn’t been remotely planning to... Was kinda trippy that Jimmy even realized, -and so quickly-, that Richard was capable- MORE than capable of that…

 

[ _Don’t you really hurt him, Richard._ ]

 

And, this time it was a command.

Quieter.

Softer.

But, an **order** , nonetheless.

Given in that so gentle voice…

 

And, Jimmy sounded so like his own “Father”, right then. So like James…

 

James, who had “handled” Richard for so long. James, who was quite good at teaching others to find their focal point, to master their emotions in crises in order to more appropriately utilize what they’d been given… even while he, himself, had never seemed capable of consistently finding personal focus, or of truly mastering any passions of his own…

 

And, Richard didn’t always know if his tendency toward compliance in moments such as these was solely due to how deeply and purely he loved and trusted his sweet Jimmy… Or, if it was at least partially due to some residuals from James having been one of his main handlers for so very long back in the day.

 

But, regardless... he found himself bolstering a bit more… not _meaning_ to be siphoning so much off his beloved boy, even though it was still within safe limits….

So, he could just give the dude, who was within that very moment only a few steps away from reaching the stall… and from realizing it was locked… give that fucker a niiiiccce lil’ love tap rather than a blast…

 

They both heard the dude gasp in pain-

And, the asshole’s friends heard him, too.

 

“Dude?”

 

“Fuuuuucccck…”

And, he was like a deflating balloon. His sig sinking slowly to the ground…

 

An’ honestly… that shoulda been it.

 

The… whatever had been pinpointed.

Precise.

 

Curious Cleats shoulda’ been _fine_ in a little while, and there would be no lasting-

 

“Dude! What the fuck?!,” Snorty yelped questioningly as he and Quiet Dude approached, “…Are you… Are you _crying_?!”

“…F-Fuck off. S’ nothing,” he sniffed back obvious tears from the sudden shock of pain, but still attempted to wave it off, “Jus’… allergy… S-Stupid a-allergy-”

 

And, before anyone could question how the hell “allergies” could have brought a sporty dude like Cleats to the ground-

 

_It_ struck.

With little to no warning.

A charge of energy that Richard hardly deflected from _**blasting**_ right into Cleat’s mother fuckin’ **heart** itself.

 

[“ **STUPID-STUPID-STUPID** ,” it repeated over and fucking over on a ranting, raving loop.]…

**~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~**

 

Safe in Jimmy’s room.

Nearly a month later.

With his boy curled so close against his chest on that oversize leather desk chair that Jimmy and the Kid periodically complained about (“It’s just sad!”)… with all-all of what had happened that day in the Academy bathrooms little more than an already forcibly re-dimming memory-

 

~~ [“NO! Richard! Don’t just- Don’t you just LET him! Why are you _letting_ him?! Make him stop- You make him STOP!”]  ~~

 

Richard found himself chuckling and murmuring completely nonsensically… Forcing senseless humor in an attempt to silence the voices and the memories of the near past, “Hey? Ya know what I was thinkin’? Was thinkin’ I could use your dick like an egg timer. _Has it been 60 seconds, yet? **Ping!** Yep. Jimmy’s ready ta’ go again_.”

 

It was… funny?

No… Bizarre?

How despite Richard initially having had that total breakdown regarding putting them all in such a precarious position… by that time, that night that Jimmy sat curled in his lap putting forth his “Nerd Contract”…

 

Richard was so easily capable of teasing and minimizing.

 

Comfortably blanketed in enough enforced denial-

Well, if you can call purposeful repression for the sake of continued sanity “denial”, anyway.

 

And… he wasn’t the only one in “denial”, either.

 

Considering how distant Jimmy’s eyes had gone…

 

Richard jostled him gently, but-… but by that point the smaller boy didn’t even acknowledge him.

He was too busy frowning ever so slightly at nothing in particular.

 

So obviously trying- trying to recall exactly what had happened in that artificially-bright space…

 

Such a trip how despite continuously worrying and nagging over how much Richard denied, repressed, and refused to admit the hardest truths of their lives and existences for any length of time…

Jimmy was so startlingly, and _utterly_ , unaware of the times he did the same.

 

Fuck... Having to truly acknowledge such a fuckin’ upsetting as hell thing?

-They were all so heartbreakingly fucked up… yet, in many ways so comfortingly the same… all of them-

It caused Richard to fall completely silent.

 

And, he was watching Jimmy so closely.

Anxious, but… maybe… in all honesty… also a bit hopeful?

 

Fuck, man. Sometimes, he really was so _terribly_ tired of bearing the burden alone.

 

Even if he’d kinda worked to keep it that way for what had felt like forever.

 

Heh… damn.

Thinking back now on how hard and how _long_ the Kid had tried to hide everything from Grif…

Yeah. Richard n’ Simmons really were two fuckin’ peas in a pod when it came to all that sorta shit, huh?

 

Regardless of that, though, when looking back on where his head had been at on that fateful night-

The night of the goddamn “Nerd Contract”…

It was easy to wonder if maybe it was his desperate desire to unburden himself ( _Everything_ was heavier when carried alone, after all.) that had caused Richard to DARE to speak so flippantly of things he had convinced himself he wanted to remain successfully hidden away-

 

Hidden away in the darkest recesses of his sweet boy’s, -and even his own-, mind…

 

Without even knowing precisely what he wanted to hear, Richard found himself murmuring, “What? What did I do?... What did _we_ do?... Tell me, Raven.”

 

Jimmy’s so dark eyes rose up to meet his, and-

 

In that exact moment, Richard actually wasn’t sure at all of what Jimmy might say. Because-… Because, he couldn’t- he wasn’t _able_ to block things, to take it all away- take away all the nightmares like he could with the Kid…

-It really was, and always had been, so different with Richie, who was wired along such similar, though, different to be sure-, pathways-

 

But, with his Raven…

And with who they’d come to know later that was like him at least in this regard.

Could just never get quite far enough in… behind those walls and that ingrained protection that came so naturally to an Anchor…

 

So although Richard could link, could sync with his beloved boy, he surely couldn’t block or repress anything from him… or from those like him… not in the way he could with Richie…

 

Even as Richard reluctantly thought over such things, he saw his Jimmy’s eyes once again go frighteningly blank, as his cheeks went almost deathly pale…

And, Richard’s heart clenched painfully within his chest.

 

Because, dammit it was another one of those deals; a different one but another just the same, where he realized that he already knew… he knew damn well.

Knew that he didn’t really HAVE to do any ~~forced~~ blocking or repressing with his Jimmy, anyway.

 

He didn’t even always have to do it with the Kid for fuck’s sake!

 

Cause, another terrible truth… that explained a lot of how they all were capable of functioning through things that would cause others to permanently break...

Was that they’d all been taught, hadn’t they?

From the age others were learning to walk, to talk.

Taught how to push, push, push everything away…

 

Just as Jimmy was doing right then.

 

It was a learned field tactic.

To be capable of brutally forcing fearful realities into a small dark corner of the mind in order to better survive the coming onslaught…

To not allow themselves to be bogged down by TRAUMA while still so desperately needing their sanity intact in order to successfully escape the situation they were in.

 

You see, Richard truly hadn’t just been being a secretive, controlling fuck.

At least… not right then.

Though, he’d _hated_ it-, he’d known- KNOWN that he was right to- to bear the burden alone. That the boys weren’t currently _capable_ of dealing… And, NOT because they didn’t want to, but-…

 

Look, if even Jimmy, who could be so vehement about the importance of them being honest about what had happened, hadn’t been mentally ready or capable of handling the truth-

(Though, he was- was normally really only talking about… about the deal with the water that- that had ended with Richard and Simmons’ current… physical situation rather than the _whole_ truth that he and the Kid both were so blinded to…)

 

Nonetheless, if Jimmy wasn’t ready or capable of handling the truth of-of what they were… what they were capable of… of what they’d been through even back in their tenderest of years…

Then, Richard was sure the Kid wouldn’t be able to deal either.

He was damn sure that _neither_ boy was ready or capable of handling the truth of… everything. Of all the things Richard could only rarely accept, and freaking _never_ handled well, himself…

 

 

Jimmy finally spoke after what seemed an eternity.

Quietly, questioningly, he mumbled, “We-… We-… in the-the stall, and… and I guess… those guys they-… they could’ve heard or-or c-caught us?”

He looked so damn _confused_. As if he seriously had no clue what the hell he’d even been going on about earlier. As if he assumed the dudes had simply wandered out of the bathrooms none the wiser and with no damage to show for any of it.

As if all that “Voodoo Crap” had not only never happened, but as if he couldn’t even connect such things with what he had started saying moments prior…

 

And, Richard couldn’t help the instant relief that fucking filled him near to overflowing.

 

Probably… Probably, that sounds…odd… or even super fucked but…

The truth was that no matter how much Richard secretly ached n’ _hungered_ to share this burden of their forever connection and cursed abilities with his Raven within that very moment…

To at least fully link with him again.

To hear his precious voice whisper within his mind…

 

So beautiful a thing in the midst of all the hateful filth they dealt with on a day to day basis in a community such as theirs...

 

The fear of the damage such a thing could cause his sweet boy ultimately always took precedence.

Always caused him to rather push it all away for just one more day… and then another… and another…

 

And, so… so he found himself grinning at his Jimmy.

Grinning due to the release and temporary banishment of those coiled snakes slithering in the gut and the spirit that the reprieve brings.

And, Richard took a moment to first softly comfort, “Well, they _didn’t_ catch us, Raven…” Before he very nearly seamlessly picked up with the teasing. Glibly stating, “…but, ya know I’ve TOLD you to be more quiet when I’m gettin’ you off in public places, haven’t I? _Especially_ , at school or church-”

“Ahh! N-No… Oh, geez-”

 

Oh, the smaller boy was getting red as a mother fucker. It was always pretty frickin’ funny (And, exceedingly preferable over that icy, ghostly pale from a moment earlier.).

 

“Is it supposed to be _my_ fault that you get so damn loud?,” Richard smirked as if he knew very well that it was absolutely his fault.

“Oh-Oh my- I WAS trying to be-”

“Well, shit, Jimmy. If gaspin’ and whinin’ while you claw the shit outta me, and practically yank the hair outta my head is your way of ‘bein’ quiet’-…”

 

Richard couldn’t seem to help but to thoughtlessly attempt to rewrite their history together in the more than fucked subconscious hope that it would stick…

 

But, Jimmy… Jimmy tended to only repress according to his _own_ terms. An impressive ability in ones such as them.

It was honestly a large part of what Richard loved about him.

He could never be subdued for long.

 

“I-I _totally_ didn’t do that!...  That time… I- I’m not sure I remember it that way, and, uh-um-… O-Okay! That’s **enough** already!,” the smaller boy snapped out abruptly, “STOP teasing and changing the subject! You so do this crap on purpose!”

“What crap?” Richard asked in a tone of sincere puzzlement . He’d … um… kinda conveniently forgotten what the hell they’d been talking about that had led to all this in the first place-

 

_“Nerd Contract?” What “Nerd Contract?” Fuck THAT shit._

 

“Don’t play innocent with ME, **Richard**. You forget! I KNOW you!” Jimmy booped his nose to empathize his point.

“Jimmy…” Richard’s expression softened as he pulled him even closer… They could never seem to get close enough… “My sweet baby bird-”

“Ew, cheesy!”

“My beautiful squawky Raven-”

“H-Hey, I-I don’t _squawk!_ ,” Jimmy loudly squawked.

“I _know_ you know me, sweetheart. I never forget **that** … Not that…”

 

Richard ran a hand through long raven locks, went to kiss him… but Jimmy pressed a hand to his chest to further stall him, “Wait-Wait! You have to-… have to-to promise first! About Simmons and whoever he meets one day-… You have to promise that you won’t just go nut-”

 

Richard frowned in annoyance. He was LESS than pleased to be reminded of that crap. “Oh, Jimmy, for fuck’s sa-”

“C’mon. It’s only fair. It’s what’s right for Simmons and you know it!... And, listen, I’ve been thinking about it, and-… I’ve decided that maybe this… _thing_ with you and Richie-, er… Simmons… maybe it won’t be forever- I mean… maybe it could be… like figured out somehow… _Well_ , actually I guess that depends on if you’ll _ever_ just talk to your poor mo--”

 

Richard couldn’t even attempt to hold back the warning growl. Suddenly, Jimmy being able to repress according to his own terms actually seemed to suck very fucking much. The lil’ brat just HAD to recall that Richard’s mother was some mega big-brain genius, didn’t he?

Lovely.

 

Jimmy continued as if Richard hadn’t uttered a peep- or growl… whatever, “-ther, already! But, anyway, in the _meantime_ … Simmons could totally meet someone sooner rather than later, and seriously he has every right to!… Richard? I _know_ it’s hard but-… Look, it’s hard for me, too, Richard! Do you really think I _like_ the idea of-of some other g-guy-”

 

“What makes you SO sure it’d be a _guy?_ ” Richard raised an eyebrow in challenge.

He was so mother fuckin’ glad for the distraction it wasn’t even funny.

But, Jimmy only squinted thoughtfully at him, and answered slowly but reasonably enough, “…Uhhh… Hmmm…. Well, for it to be a girl… he’d, uh, have to actually… really… talk to her first, and… I mean…”

 

And, shit. That was _so_ on the nose that Richard couldn’t help but feel himself relaxing again as he let out a loud snort and leaned further back in the chair, “Yeah, yeah. The chicks really freak the Kid out, huh?”

 

“Mmhm… Hmm… A-Anyway… _Mmmm_ …”

 

Perhaps a bit sneakily, Richard’s hands had started to trail lazy yet deliberate pathways over Jimmy’s chest and belly, and the smaller boy was quite obviously struggling with staying on topic…

Not like Richard had _planned_ it that way or anything-…

But, finally, he squirmed a bit back and insisted, “R-Richard! Stop trying to distract me, and-and… just-just quit being such a giant **wuss**!”

 

Richard’s mouth _dropped_ open, “Wha-?! Shut up, bitch! I could bench-press your lil’ pixie ass even in this here skinny-ass body- Come ta’ think a’ it, I practically- hell, I pretty much HAVE in a HELLA lot a’ ways, an’-”

 

“Rich-ARD!”

“No, dude, this goddamn SUCKS! I don’t _wanna_ -” Who said he was whining? He _totally_ wasn’t actually **_whining_** like a lil’ bitch. “…Hey! An’ stop _glarin’_ at me, ya fuckin’ brat!”

 

Richard was getting so pissed off that his “accent”, if you could call it that, was getting a little too much like the old man. Little too Senior-Richard hybrid-y.

He’d really spent way too much time with the ol’ fuck back in the day.

 

Jimmy wasn’t paying any attention to all that, though. He was too busy looking at Richard like HE was the one being ridiculously annoying or overdramatic or some other such totally NOT true thing, and-

 

AND-

 

Eugh.

_*Sigh*_ …

Fuck.

Alright.

Al-motherfuckin’-right, already!

 

The truth? Being real as fuck?

 

Was that maybe- Just _maybe_ Richard had been seconds from saying “ta’ hell with it” and picking a huge nasty fight like a total shithead for the sole purpose of entirely changing the subject from _anything_ to do with his precious Kid and the very IDEA of some creep movin’ in on him...

It simply seemed SO fricking preferable.

 

But when he looked into his Raven’s dark eyes, he instantly _knew_ that he was expecting and waiting for him to do just that, and-

 

Man, it so wasn’t worth it.

 

Although, it was literally impossible for either of them to stay sincerely angry with each other for any real length of time, Richard wasn’t in the mood for one of their blow outs.

For one of their fights that, although they never had and never would lead to an _official_ break up, could still end up with them not speaking for…  like hours upon hours...

 

Which was a long time for them!

 

Simmons had even had to step in as like a mediator or some shit to get them talking again once when Richard had said something… really… really fucking thoughtless… although… Um… although, the Kid might not exactly remember that…

 

But, uh, _annnywaaay_ , it was obvious this shit meant a lot to Jimmy for some reason (And, truly, his Raven’s care and genuine concern for the Kid was another part of why Richard loved him, so-), and… and truthfully?

Remembering what a good dude the Kid was… How he really did want everyone he gave a fuck about to be happy… Or “mentally and emotionally fulfilled and satisfied”… It started to make Richard feel kinda… like really bad.

He DID want the Kid to-… to be able to be happy with-with someone, too, one day if he wanted to… It was- was just-… I mean, there were a lot of variables, but…

But, Richard did genuinely always want the best for him…

 

And, in light of all of that, he decided to play nice, and say in as, uh, reasonable of a tone as he’d currently been able to manage-

 

“Oh, Fuuuccck. Al-fuckin’-right!... Pfftt… Okay, FINE, so I won’t just automatically fuck up any shitheads that hit on the Ki-”

 

Jimmy stopped Richard’s tirade with gentle fingers to his lips and a slight shake of the head.

An’ shit man! It was literally wacked to have someone know him so damn well.

Even by that point Jimmy already had a line on all Richard’s lil’ tricks.

 

Tricks that Richard hadn’t even been aware he was subconsciously trying to pull that time around until he was called out on them in so mild a manner.

 

Though Jimmy’s voice had turned soft, it was still insistent, “Say it **right** , Richard. It’s how and **_what_** you function as, now, so you have to say it in a contractually correct manner, and-”

 

“Dammit! No! Stop! Eughhhh… Fuck… _Okay_ … I said, okay… This is dumb…” But, despite his words, Richard still found himself taking a deep, steadying breath before saying in a tone that was somehow slightly mocking yet strangely sincere, “I-… I, Richard Simmons the II, agree to-… to ‘not kill’ a bitch without provocation simply due to their interest in… uhh… their interest in the-… the-”

 

“Don’t. Don’t you EVEN try it. You say his name _right_. No weaseling out later due to technicalities. You’re better than that, Richard.” Jimmy scolded him even as his hand moved down to absently rub and tap at his chest, his heart.

 

The frustrated growl that had started to rumble its way out of his throat subsided at the touch, and Richard internally corrected himself in order to continue, “-the individual, Richard ‘Richie’ Simmons the III, who is by and large known simply as ‘Simmons’. I, furthermore, agree that if the interested party in question appears to be ‘sincere and open-minded’, I, Richard Simmons the II, will, at the bare minimum, ‘give them a chance’ before acting solely based off emotion and my ‘over-blown violent tendencies’….

“And, uhhh… and, The. End. There! Done! That should be good enough, dammit!... Was it good for you, sweetheart? C’mon, Raven, tell me. You jus’ **creamin’** over our lil’ _Nerd Contract_ or what? I even used some of your own dumb verbiage in there. You happy, now, you mother fuckin’ mother hen? Do you feel like you protected your precious lil’ Simmons chick, and whatever future rooster that comes scratchin’ around hi-”

 

Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him, and he gave him an affectionate squeeze. “Yes. Good job. I know that was hard for you-”

 

“D-Dude! Don’t- Don’t you go fuckin’-!... Listen, I don’t need no pixie princesses **patronizing** my ass.”

 

Richard sounded absolutely _mortified_ , but Jimmy simply ignored him. Sometimes, Richard couldn’t seem to help but to get really embarrassed and defensive when praised.

He was **very** different from Simmons or Jimmy in that way.

 

“I don’t know what this crap is all about, anyway,” Richard went on agitatedly, “I mean, you’ll _obviously_ be there if Simmons meets some-some-… **_some perverted mother fuck_** -”

 

“Richard,” Jimmy’s voice was so soft.

No censure to be heard.

 

And, that helped Richard to tone it down… just a bit.

 

But, he still couldn’t help but to continue, “Yeah, yeah. I mean, some **totally** decent dude that’s SO not after him for his pretty ass-”

The sigh Jimmy let out was more resigned than condemning.

And, Richard hugged the other boy so tightly, almost a little desperately... (Christ, he was sure this shit was gonna give him anxiety-induced hives.), “Look, you’ll just have to help me, alright? They’re all gonna seem like pieces a’ shit ta’ me. You’ll have to tell me if some asshole’s really … alright… Like, not complete trash- It’s not like anyone could ever be GOOD enough for the Kid, but-”

 

“Alright. You’re right,” Jimmy soothed, “When the time comes I’ll help you to- to, um…”

“Vet the horn dogs?”

Jimmy couldn’t hide the smile as he rolled his eyes, “Oh, Richard. You never change.”

“Mmm… You done bitchin’?”

“I wasn’t-!”

 

Jimmy slapped lightly at him, but Richard wasn’t listening, anymore. Instead, he rearranged the smaller boy so he was straddling rather than just sitting across his lap, and he purred softly into his ear in-between gentle nips to the tender lobe, “Shhh… Raven… No more nagging, okay?… Time ta’ be a good boy for me, now… I missed you last night…”

He pressed his lips to his boy’s so soft, so kissable ones… before pausing to hum thoughtfully. And, he licked the tip of his tongue right over Jimmy’s lips, -to the smaller boy’s shiver-, only to then whisper against them, “Now, why don’t you tell me why you taste like one a those rainbow candy canes?…”

 

Jimmy turned bright red though who could figure out why. He just always seemed to get shy when Richard talked about _tasting_ him. It was kinda frickin’ adorable.

 

The raven-haired boy squirmed a bit in Richard’s lap, causing him to hardly stifle a sharp intake of breath, and to capture the restless boy by the hips so he could keep some semblance of control before he simply took him down to the floor and _tasted_ some his other favorite spots on him.

Richard really didn’t think he got enough credit for his saint-like self-restraint.

I mean, sure. He _obviously_ was going to get his hands, and teeth, and lips, and, uh, ya know… all over his boy, but… the fact that he was able to keep from doing it _constantly_ whenever they were alone…

 

It was a real testament to not only his willpower, but to the strength of his love for the damn brat.

 

Jimmy stammered, “I-It’s… It’s that tinted organic lip balm you-you got me… K-Kissable ch-cherry?... Remember? D-Don’t you even remember any of the things you get me?”

“Now, how the hell could I remember all that stuff? Always gettin’ you somethin’ or another.”

 

And, it wasn't like Jimmy could deny that. It was true that, in his own ways, both big and small, and despite their fucked up situation, Richard did love to at least _attempt_ to indulge him (And, the Kid.) however, and whenever he could.

 

“Mm… Sweet…” Richard murmured as he kissed him once again. Licking sweet gloss right off his lips before pulling back enough to slide his hands underneath his shirt-

But, as though he couldn’t bear even minimal distance between them, the smaller boy instantly pressed back up against him.

Burying slim fingers into shiny hair and tugging Richard forward so he could nip at his lips (They _always_ seemed to be nipping and gently, -sometimes not so gently-, biting at each other. It was just their way.) before rocking down against him with a pleased hum…

And, wrapping his slender arms tighter around Richard’s neck, hands still in his hair, he leaned up to whisper in his ear…

 

“Happy Anniversary, Richard.”

 

“Mmm, Happy Anniversary, sweet baby... Love you so much, Raven...”

 

And, for a time they lost themselves to those playful nips and searching tongues…

Until, the taller boy pulled back to favor his boy with that wolfish grin, “Sooo… You can have your present now if I can put it on you… But, you gotta promise ta’ keep your eyes closed ‘til I get you to the mirror so I can show you what it looks like on in all its sexy-ass glory- I’d blindfold you so I’d _know_ you couldn’t peek, but I don’t wanna fuck up your eye makeup… So? Whaddya think, Raven? You want your present, now?” Richard grinned playfully as he tickled his fingers over and up his boy’s slender bare legs and under the too big t-shirt he wore to rest on his hips.

 

And, Jimmy pressed cherry-flavored lips to his.

Laughing into their kiss as he obediently closed his eyes and whispered like the sweet, deliciously bratty little princess he was, “ _Yes_ , I want my present, right _now_ … Dress me, please…”  


✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

 

Slipping away from vibrant reminiscence and back into wretched reality…

Richard almost thought he could still taste him on his lips…

On his tongue...

Sweet.

So sweet.

 

His sweet baby, his Jimmy…. Who he loved, who he-who he… who he’d _promised_ …

 

But, when his eyes refocused on Grif’s peacefully slumbering form…

The pain.

The RAGE.

Directed more at himself, now, yes, but-

 

But, it _**had**_ to go somewhere.

 

It had to go somewhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading and for sticking with this story despite my unplanned absence! I hope all of you are well, and again I hope to get to post (And, even get to read, again!) much more regularly! We are finally coming up on some big events and with the reveals you hopefully picked up on in the last two chapters (Especially, this one.) I am SO excited! Much Love! ♡–MissyAnn❀
> 
> P.S An eventually awake Grif :P, Donut, and Lopez will be joining us next chapter! Things are going to start getting… intense in Blood Gulch.
> 
>  


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